


Crying Lightning

by opalheart12



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-08-15 13:44:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 49,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8058607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/opalheart12/pseuds/opalheart12
Summary: Despite being stuck in a loveless of a marriage, Ichabod Crane's honor will not allow him to ask for a divorce. He becomes consumed by a quiet resentment as he suffers through every day. But when he meets Abbie Mills at Tarrytown State University, he finds that resentment being replaced by something altogether different. However, a potentially life-ruining threat hangs overhead, threatening their new love.
Each chapter will be inspired by/named after a song by Arctic Monkeys.





	1. Teddy Picker

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this on ff.net and decided to put it here as well. I really hope you like it. I own nothing.

**_Assuming that all things are equal, who'd want to be men of the people when there's people like you?-Teddy Picker(AM)_ **

* * *

 

He was in a most horrid mood and he was certain his students were going to notice. He was much more crabby than he usually was. To start with, he'd barely gotten any sleep since Katrina bought a new mattress and sheets. She hadn't even asked him for his opinion on either. Then, she was gone when he finally decided to get ready for the day. Her job at her jewelry store kept her away more often than not.

He'd been telling himself for nearly three years now that she was just busy and it wouldn't be forever. But there appeared to be no end in sight and rather than his wife, Katrina seemed to him more of a roommate.

It was a subject neither one of them wanted to broach, especially with Ichabod's damning sense of honor and duty. No, he would not divorce Katrina unless she asked first, which he did not see happening any time soon.

He tried not to dwell too much on his home life as he sought to keep it quite separate from work. Hoping that his morning could still be saved, he placed his cup under the faucet of the Keurig machine he'd quite taken a liking to, thankful that someone had the foresight to buy such a thing.

Trying to ignore the scalding sensation, Ichabod took a long drink of coffee and closed his eyes as the warmth rushed through him. He took deep breaths, happy to note that he felt marginally better.

"Could you help me with this?" a voice asked, forcing Ichabod to open his eyes.

Coming into the professor's lounge was a short woman with beautiful, dark skin, large brown eyes, and curly hair that stopped at her chin. On her face was a friendly smile that immediately made him feel his day could certainly be salvaged. In her arms were bags from the Tarrytown Market.

"I haven't seen you here before." he observed as he took some of the bags from her.

She smiled as she did the same. "It's my first day, actually. I'm Abbie Mills, the new head of campus security. My office is in this building."

He nodded in understanding, remembering that the Office of Campus Security took up nearly half of the first floor in the Baldwin College of Behavioral and Social Sciences. Classrooms were on the second floor and offices were on the third.

"Welcome to Tarrytown State, Ms. Mills. I'm sure you will enjoy it here. Lots of action, I'm told." Ichabod put away all the bottles of juice and water she'd bought into the fridge and proceeded to load K-cups into the basket next to the Keurig.

"Can't be much worse than action as an FBI agent." she replied, stepping around him to put granola bars on the counter. "Still, I'm trying to make a good first impression."

He smiled at her when she said this. "Well Ms. Mills, you certainly don't need snacks to win me over. You've done that quite well on your own."

She laughed and gave him a curious look before nodding to herself. Feeling his face get warm, he turned and made for the door, noting that he should probably start getting ready for the day.

"Wait!" she called when he was nearly out of the door. "I never got your name."

He gave her a small smile. "Dr. Ichabod Alexander Crane, professor of United States and World History. My office is on the third floor and the door at the end of the hallway if you're coming out of the main elevator."

"That's...good to know."

"Indeed. Good luck, Ms. Mills. I hope your first day is wonderful." Then he was gone.

Abbie stared at the doorway still, unable to drop the small smile on her face. There was something about him she knew she liked almost instantly. But as her eyes finally left the doorway and travelled to the clock on the wall, she realized it was time to make her way to her office.

* * *

"And so, though the American forces stood hardly a chance, they managed to overcome the greatest military power in the world at the time. That, one could argue, is the true spirit of America."

He smiled as he looked out at his students. One student, near the front, rolled her eyes and shook her head. "The _true_ spirit of America is racism and genocide but that's a discussion for another day, right, Professor Crane?"

He squinted and cocked his head thoughtfully before nodding. "Yes, I suppose that is another possible answer."

She gave him a sarcastic smile before taking out her phone. Deciding it might be best to just pick his battles, he dismissed class and headed to his office for what would be his two hour lunch break.

He didn't have another class until 2pm and he thoroughly intended to use that time to take a nap since he was practically dead on his feet. He stepped into his office and closed the door behind him as he made his way to the fluffy couch in the corner of his office. Despite the fact that his legs dangled off the sofa's edge, he pulled the small throw across his body and closed his eyes, intending to only sleep for a half hour.

* * *

"Hi, thank you for calling Campus Security. Is there anything I can help you with?" Abbie asked, trying to keep the boredom out of her voice.

Other than paperwork, her first day on the job was quite boring. She eyed the half-eaten granola bar on her desk and hoped the person calling would hurry so she could finish it.

"Yes, my name is Bethany Robins. I don't know if anything is wrong exactly but it's almost 3pm and Dr. Crane never showed for class. Normally, he leaves a note on the door or sends an e-mail but he didn't today."

Abbie frowned at this and nodded. "Right. Well, I'll go and check on him. In the meantime, don't wait up. Class dismissed." She hung up the phone and stood to stretch, wondering what could've caused the man from earlier to miss his entire class.

She took the elevator up to the third floor and walked to the door at the end of the hallway. Unlike a lot of the other professors, there was nothing on Dr. Ichabod A. Crane's door other than his name-plate.

She knocked three times and waited but received no response. She knocked again, slightly louder. "Dr. Crane, it's Abbie Mills from Campus Security. Is everything alright in there?" She heard nothing in response.

She tried the door and noticed it was unlocked. She stepped inside and closed the door behind her, feeling relieved when she saw that Dr. Crane was only asleep on his sofa. With a sigh, she poked him with her flashlight, careful to stand some distance away in case he was of the sort that fought people who woke them up.

"Dr. Crane, wake up." she said with a particularly hard prod.

His eyes opened sluggishly and he groaned as he turned onto his back. His head tilted over and a puzzled expression passed over his face. "Why are you here, Ms. Mills?"

She leaned against his file cabinet and raised an eyebrow. "A student called my office wondering if you were alright because it is now 3pm and you never showed for your 2pm."

It was comical how fast he shot up from the sofa, nearly pressing his nose into the clock that hung on the wall. "Oh, brilliant." he muttered as he huffed before pinching the bridge of his nose. "Just brilliant."

Abbie shot him a look of concern. "So you slept late. What's the harm in missing _one_ class?"

"I didn't get an ounce of sleep last night. I'd only intended to close my eyes for thirty minutes. How foolish of me."

"Happens to the best of us. Anyway, I'm glad to see you aren't dead. If you need anything else, let me know." She gave him an awkward pat on his shoulder and left the office before he could thank her for waking him.

The silence in his office was broken by the shrill ringing of his phone. His stomach dropped slightly upon seeing Katrina's name flash across the screen.

"Yes?"

"Ichabod. I just wanted to inform you I will not be home until very late tonight. Don't wait up." She sounded distracted and from the noise in the background, quite busy.

"I wouldn't dream of it, dearest. Besides, it isn't as if you _must_ call anymore. I can barely remember what your face looks like." he replied snidely. He felt annoyed that he'd missed his class and pissed that he hadn't been able to sleep the night in the first place.

"I'm sorry, Ichabod, I am. But it won't be this way forever. I want this store to be a success. You know that, right?"

He was silent as he let the latest of her excuses wash over him. He wished she would stop making excuses and just ask for a divorce already. Neither of them was idiotic enough to believe their relationship was actually working.

"I love you, Ichabod." It sounded like an afterthought and he briefly wondered if she'd had to remind herself to say it.

"I know."

* * *

The area of Sleepy Hollow where his complex of town homes were located was indeed a very quiet part of town. Each building consisted of about four town homes, each with a sizable front and backyard. All of them were three stories with the bottom being the basement. Ichabod's library took up a good portion of the third floor with the other portion being designated as storage for any extra product from Katrina's store. The second floor was home to three bedrooms and two and a half bathrooms while the basement was home to the kitchen, dining room, and living room.

In all of Ichabod Crane's life, he'd never lived anywhere he loved more than the town home. Regardless of what was happening with Katrina, the town home felt a lot like _his_ home. He could retreat to his library if ever he needed to.

He dropped his keys in the basket on the table in the entryway and took his shoes off before realizing that he hadn't gone to check the mail for the day. Cursing himself into oblivion, he raced outside and around the corner to mail center, not realizing that he didn't have on any shoes.

As he got closer to the mail center, he noticed that someone was already there, someone that appeared quite familiar to him. "Ms. Mills?" he asked questioningly.

She spun around and smiled at him in surprise. "Crane! You live here too?" She was holding a stack of mail in her hands as she leaned up against the wall.

"Yes, actually. For four years now. I assume you have just moved in." It sounded a lot like a question and she raised her eyebrows as he walked around her to get to his mailbox.

"That would be correct. Just moved in last week." It was silent between them as she observed him going through his mail very carefully. When he appeared to be finished, she spoke again. "I'm having a housewarming party tonight actually. You're more than welcome to come. I'm in 3B." She gave him a hopeful smile that he found he could not possibly say no to.

"I currently reside in 2C which, I believe, is across from your 3B." he replied. Abbie nodded in response and gave him an expectant look that took him some time to notice. "And yes, I suppose coming to your housewarming party would be quite nice."

They talked for a bit more before Abbie decided she needed to get back home to get things set up for the party. Crane walked back to the town home, unable to understand why he suddenly felt disappointed. It was noon and Abbie's party would not begin until 9pm that night. For a reason he was unsure of, he had the feeling that day would crawl by quite slowly.


	2. Do I Wanna Know?

* * *

_**How many secrets can you keep?-Do I Wanna Know? (AM)** _

* * *

 

Katrina came home as Ichabod was getting ready for Abbie's housewarming party. He was fidgeting with the buttons on his shirt when he heard the door unlock and another set of keys land on the table. She came up the stairs faster than he expected and when he turned to greet her she did not appear at all happy.

"What's wrong?" he asked, searching her face. She rolled her eyes and huffed as she threw her bag to the floor.

"A deal with Parrish Jewelers fell through and now they refuse to sell any product to me because Henry Parrish doesn't think I have enough to experience to sell his jewelry for what it's worth." She was annoyed and now looking at Ichabod, she felt guilty. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "How was your day?"

He decided to leave his shirt as it was. "I've been invited to a housewarming party for a co-worker." Both of them noticed that he had not said "we". Katrina wanted to feel sad but she couldn't summon it. All she could concentrate on nowadays was the store.

They didn't speak as Ichabod finished getting dressed in what came to be a very nice outfit. His newly cut hair was pushed back and made his bright blue eyes pop against the dark grey of his shirt. After spending some time debating what pants to wear, he'd gone with black jeans and dress shoes. He took a dark blue sweater from the closet and made for the door when Katrina stopped him.

"Ichabod, wait."

He froze in the doorway and turned to face her. "Yes?"

She stepped forward and stared at him for a time, as if searching his face for something. "I...have a good time." she finished, looking quite disappointed in herself. Ichabod couldn't help feeling that she wanted to tell him something else entirely.

* * *

He got to Abbie's home fifteen minutes after 9, not wanting to be too early or too late. The house was packed with people and Ichabod found he had to stick to the walls to avoid being shoved between people. He finally found his way to the kitchen which, oddly enough, was sparsely populated. He opened the fridge and was taking out a beer when a voice startled him.

"You made it."

He fumbled as he nearly dropped the beer and turned to see Abbie Mills standing next to him. "Yes," he replied. "I did."

She nodded before opening her own beer. "It was only supposed to be a couple people but my sister, Jenny, decided to invite her friends who invited their friends. It kinda spiralled from there." she said with a small laugh.

"Pardon me for asking, Ms. Mills, but is there somewhere less...populated I could go? I am quite claustrophobic." he said eventually as he eyed how quickly the kitchen was filling up.

Draining the rest of her beer, she nodded before setting the glass down and taking his hand. "My third floor has basically no one since I roped it off."

For a reason Ichabod was not comfortable knowing, he felt jittery at the thought of the two of them being relatively alone. It was silly, he thought. After all, he was a married man even if it didn't feel like he was. His ring felt as if it were burning his finger just then and he took it off with a frown and put it in his back pocket.

"Ring getting small?" Abbie asked as she noticed the action, an arch of disappointment floating through her.

He nodded slowly and looked down at his hand thoughtfully. "Something like that."

* * *

Twenty minutes later found the two of them on the large balcony in giant chairs staring up at the sky. Their minds were in extremely opposite places.

Abbie was resolving to put aside any minute feelings of attraction she'd felt for Crane and trying to smother the simmering anger she felt upon seeing him take his ring off. She couldn't help thinking of her father, Gregory Mills, who left her mother for another woman and started an entirely new family. Rationally, she knew the two might not be the same and she didn't know anything about Crane's marriage to even criticize what she saw.

Ichabod was trying to deal with the new feeling that was settling in his stomach. He felt quite certain that he wanted to get to know Abbie Mills better. In the short time since the two met, she seemed to have a positive impact on his mood. His mind drifted back to Katrina and he sighed as he closed his eyes in frustration. It was a feeling he was quite familiar with, though he was loathe to admit it.

"Why'd you take it off?" Abbie asked shortly as she turned her head to face him.

He ran his hands over his face and eventually through his hair. "It's my wife. The last three years everything has gone down hill. We're always busy and we barely see each other. It doesn't feel like we're married. It feels like we're acquaintances."

"So, why are you still together?"

He took a while to answer, and he tried to push down the feelings of sadness that suddenly took over him. "I took a vow. I made a promise. I don't believe that a man who breaks his promises is worth much. My father always taught me that, if nothing else, a man only has his word, his name, and his reputation. I could not bare a stain upon either."

Abbie turned to him totally. "You would remain in what seems to be a loveless marriage all because you made a vow?"

"Yes," he said simply. "The decision is hers to make whether or not she wishes to remain together."

"Have you even tried to make this work?"

"We did. But...we just kept missing each other. Somewhere both us must have decided it wasn't worth it anymore." Saying it aloud seemed harder than thinking it. When he'd asked Katrina to marry him, they'd both been happy. They'd thought it would be forever. Regardless of the state of their marriage, he loved Katrina. He suspected a part of him always would.

"It takes a big person to stay in a situation like that." Abbie replied, recalling that her mother suffered from multiple mental illnesses during her childhood. Though she never knew the reason her father left, she began to suspect this was why.

"It takes an even bigger person to leave. I am, regrettably, not that person yet."

They sat in silence for awhile and Abbie thought it funny that all she knew about Crane up to this point in time was his name, the location of his office, and the state of his marriage.

"Miss Mills, would you mind terribly if we talked about something else?"

She gave him a small smile in return. "I think that's a good idea, Crane."

* * *

It was nearly one in the morning when everyone had gone home and only Ichabod and Abbie remained. They were both quite drunk but having a good time nonetheless.

"We should eat, Crane, or this will be ten times worse in the morning." Abbie called as she descended the stairs to the kitchen.

Ichabod followed her, careful to stick only to the wall so as not to end his life by falling down the stairs. "Indeed."

Abbie warmed up leftover pizza and poured them water as Ichabod sat on the sofa in the living room. She came in with the pizza a few minutes later only to see him fast asleep on the sofa. Sighing, she decided to take his food and water for herself and fell asleep in the armchair.

The following morning greeted them with extremely heavy rain and thunder. Ichabod woke up first two hours after Abbie fell asleep. Upon seeing the time, his eyes widened and he nearly jumped from the sofa. Recovering his cell phone from his pockets, he decided to call the home phone to let Katrina know he wouldn't be back until later.

The phone rang and went to voicemail twice, though on the third time a man's voice answered.

"Hello." The voice was groggy, deep, and wholly familiar to Crane. It was Abraham Van Brunt, a man he'd previously considered his best friend until he'd interrupted Ichabod and Katrina's wedding with his declarations of love for her.

Feeling steel creep into his voice, he gripped the phone so tight it nearly broke. "Where is Katrina?"

There was a shuffling of the phone and muffled voices before he heard Katrina on the other end. "Hello?"

"Katrina."

"Oh, shit." she hissed. He could practically see her closing her eyes in shame. "Ichabod. Hi. How was the party?" Her voice was somewhat shaky.

"Quite lovely. I got very drunk and felt it important to inform you that, due to my current state of inebriation, I would not be leaving until the morning. I don't quite know whether or not you would have cared either way." He suddenly felt quite sober and, to his dismay and confusion, quite sad.

He hung up and threw his phone across the room before falling back onto the sofa, deciding that sleep would be best for what he was going to have to deal with the following day.

* * *

Later, it was Abbie who woke up around 9am thought the rain outside fooled her into thinking it was a few hours earlier than that. She set about cleaning up, happy to see that Jenny had the sense to take care of most of it. Though she didn't have a headache, Abbie felt like her bones were trying to come through her skin and she felt nauseous.

Deciding that vacuuming could wait until she had a shower and breakfast, she put it off and headed to her room.

As she closed the door behind her, Ichabod woke up feeling decidedly horrid. He had a headache, though it was from the rage he felt upon remembering that Abraham Van Brunt answered his home phone at 3 in the morning. He took deep breaths and willed the pieces in his head to stop coming together so quickly.

A wave of nausea washed over him and he bolted to the bathroom. After spending nearly ten minutes vomiting, he was happy to see a spare toothbrush, mouthwash, and toothpaste on the counter. He splashed cold water on his face and brushed his teeth before deciding that maybe he should set about making breakfast.

When Abbie returned to the kitchen, she saw him making bacon and heating up bagels. "You didn't need to do that, Crane."

"No, Miss Mills, I needed to. I need to be busy. If not, I… my thoughts will catch up to me and I don't particularly wish for that at the moment."

Deciding not to question him for the moment, she returned to her previous task of cleaning the living room. She'd started vacuuming and therefore had not been paying attention until a loud crackling noise scared her. Turning the vacuum off, she looked down at the floor and saw the pieces of a cell phone. Thankfully, only the back and battery had come out and the screen was fine.

"Is this yours?" Abbie asked when she came back into the kitchen.

Ichabod glanced up from the bacon and sighed. "Yes, it's mine."

"Care to explain why I nearly vacuumed it?"

He gripped the counter tightly before answering, "I threw it across the room last night. Katrina has been cheating on me."


	3. Do Me a Favor

**_Perhaps "fuck off" might be too kind.-Do Me a Favor (AM)_ **

* * *

 

He left Abbie's home for his own and realized the walk seemed much longer than it was. When he got there, he noticed a car that was neither his or Katrina's parked outside. He could see through the windows of the car that there were multiple bags and boxes inside. He frowned and headed inside.

Upon entering, he noticed a few things were in bags and heard voices from the second floor. He followed them and his rage flared upon recognizing one to be Abraham's.

"All of that can go in this bag, Abraham. I don't want to take much with me." Katrina instructed as Ichabod walked through the hall and rounded into the room.

Everything became deathly silent. Katrina glanced at the doorway and saw him, a look of shock blooming across her face. Abraham finished zipping the bag he was holding and met Ichabod's eyes, a quiet smugness in his eyes.

"How dare you?" Ichabod's voice was deathly quiet, surprising even himself.

"Ichabod, we love each other. We-"

"How dare you?!" His voice was now loud and thunderous and Abraham and Katrina jumped in shock. "I gave you 8 years of my life. I loved only you, supported only you, put no one before you. Yet, you do this with the one person whom I most despise in the world."

Katrina stepped forward and held her hands out toward Ichabod in a placating manner. "Ichabod, please. You know things between us have not been great for years now."

"Well, we know who is to blame for that, do we not?" He cut her off, his voice scathing. "For the last three years, ever since you opened the store, I wondered why you'd grown so distant. I wondered what it was that I was doing wrong. I asked myself over and over again if I was still enough for you. Now, I know the answer. You lied to me. You manipulated me. But what is worst is that you wasted my time."

Tears sprang to Katrina's eyes. "What are you talking about?"

He laughed bitterly and rolled his eyes. "Oh, dear Katrina, did you think I would not figure it out? Did you think I wouldn't figure out that you cheated on me with this scoundrel since before we were ever even married? When did it start, my love? Was it, perhaps, the night I introduced the two of you?"

"That's not fair."

"Isn't it?" He immediately spun around and raced down the stairs where he noticed there were a few boxes and bags and opened the front door.

He kicked the boxes as hard as he could until they were out on the front lawn and threw the bags out after them, one hitting Abraham's car and making the alarm go off.

"Ichabod, stop! What are you doing?" Katrina ran after him and cried as she noticed him throwing her things out into the front yard.

"Leave."

"No, I just need-"

"You need nothing from me, clearly." He hissed as his nails dug tightly into his hand. His other hand tapped incessantly at his side.

"Move on, Crane. She certainly has." Abraham gloated as he walked past the two of them to his car. That was the last straw.

He raced after him and turned him around as he opened his car door. Abraham had no time to get out a single word before Ichabod punched him so hard that he fell into the doorway of his car.

"Stop it, Ichabod, please!" Katrina screamed as she tried to break them up.

Ichabod punched Abraham one last time in the nose, feeling satisfaction rush through him as blood began to gush from his nose. He was about to strike him again when he heard a new voice.

"What the hell is going on here? Break it up!" It was Abbie Mills. While Abraham was being pulled away by Katrina, it was Abbie who pulling Ichabod away.

"They were just leaving." He hissed at them and stormed back into the house, slamming the door shut behind him.

Abbie turned back to look at the couple before, guessing that she was looking at Katrina and the guy she'd been cheating on Crane with. "Do you want to press charges?"

Abraham opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by Katrina. "No! No, we will just be leaving now."

Deciding she didn't care enough to watch Katrina gather up her belongings in the front yard, Abbie went inside to check on Crane.

She found him eventually on the third floor in what appeared to be an attic library. He sat in an armchair in the middle of the room with a glass of what Abbie guessed was scotch.

"You alright there, Fight Club?" She asked with a smile.

He smiled at her quite shortly before draining the small amount that was in the glass. He sighed as he sat back and closed his eyes. "I thought it was all my fault. I thought it was my fault the marriage was failing."

"It wasn't."

"Yes, I know that now."

Abbie figured that talking wasn't what Crane needed at the moment and decided that silence was best. She walked around the room slowly, looking at all his books and marveling at how a person could have so many.

"You know, I resigned myself to the fact that I would be stuck in a marriage like that. Every day I hoped Katrina would ask me for a divorce. But...to know that she lied to me, cheated before we were even married...it feels like-"

"A waste of time?" Abbie finished softly. She'd turned away from the books to face him.

Crane nodded silently and sighed once more. "Why did she not just tell me that she wanted to be with someone else? Eight years together with her, three of them married...she should have told me from the beginning."

"Love is complex and stupid. Maybe she thought it would stop. Maybe she really did love you, Crane."

He did not respond and she took that to mean he disagreed. An idea sprang to her just then. "Why don't you go get cleaned up and we can just go somewhere that isn't this house. How does that sound?"

It turned out he quite agreed. Abbie was taking him to a restaurant she said she went to after her first boyfriend dumped her. "The food made me forget all about that."

"Yes, well I doubt that food could do the same for me in this instance."

"Will you go with me on this?" She replied with a glare at which he promptly closed his mouth.

Twenty minutes later, they were seated near the back of the restaurant and had already ordered their food.

"So, Ms. Mills, how does one go from an FBI agent to campus security at Tarrytown State?"

Abbie swallowed the forkful of pasta she'd shoved into her mouth before answering. "I had a bad case."

She didn't elaborate past that and Crane noted it was a sore point of conversation. "But still, campus security at Tarrytown? It surely isn't the most exciting of jobs."

"I took the job to keep an eye on my sister. She can be a bit of a troublemaker. She's an archaeology major with a minor in history so I'm sure you'll have her in a class soon if you haven't already."

He closed his eyes for a moment and recalled Abbie mentioning her sister's name. "Jennifer Mills is your sister?"

"The one and only." Abbie replied before taking a large drink of orange juice.

"She is in my U.S. History class at 11am. Last week, she informed me that the American spirit is one of genocide and racism."

Abbie snorted and covered her mouth as she laughed. "She's not wrong," she said between gasps of air. "But that does sound like her."

He laughed with her and when they finally caught their breath again, he decided to press on. "Are you both from Sleepy Hollow originally?"

"Yeah. I left and she stayed. When an opportunity was presented to me to come back, I jumped on it. It's just the two of us."

He nodded and picked up his sandwich, unsure of which way to attack it from. Finally, he figured it out and took a large bite. He closed his eyes and hummed his approval, thinking that the honey chicken and avocado sandwich was the best thing he's ever eaten.

"What about you, huh? You and Katrina definitely aren't from around here." She finished her orange juice and gave him an expectant look.

His took another bite of his sandwich and drank some water before responding. "Katrina and I have known each other most of our lives. Our fathers were best friends so when we got together it was really no surprise. We both decided to leave England and I applied for jobs at different universities. Tarrytown State responded immediately and I was hired on the spot."

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Wow. What about Abraham? How does he fit into all this?"

Crane's expression darkened at the mention of Abraham but he resolved to answer the question anyway. "I met him at boarding school. We both graduated and went to Oxford together. I majored in history and he in mechanical engineering. I introduced he and Katrina at a New Year's party we had. At our wedding, he objected to our marriage by professing his love for her and saying that I was not good enough for her. I should have known the truth even then but I chose to ignore it. I have despised him since then."

"Dick move. He probably wasn't really a true friend. Katrina, despite what she did, probably cared a lot for you. That's going to be important for you to remember, Crane."

"Indeed."

Crane cancelled his classes for the week and took advantage of the sick days he'd been building. He needed time to get himself to rights.

He'd had a terse phone call with Katrina wherein he'd informed her that the rest of her belongings were packed and carefully placed outside in the doorway. Her jewelry in the attic, he promised, would be sent to her storage facility.

He hadn't expected her to want to talk to him when she finally showed up, but she did. In her hands were papers he never felt more relieved to see: divorce papers.

"Hi." she said softly as she stood in the doorway. "I brought these for you to sign. I don't want anything. You can keep the town house."

He looked at her, searching her eyes for any sign of untruth or reluctance. There was none. This was what she wanted.

He read through the papers carefully in case there was something within that would force him to give up money or possessions. True to her word, there was nothing Katrina wanted other than to be divorced from him.

He signed the papers and took his ring off, placing it atop them. "Sell it if you must. I have no more use for it."

When she was gone, Ichabod decided that the house needed rearranging. He didn't want there to be any sign that Katrina had ever been there. The thought made his skin crawl, knowing Abraham had been there as well.

He spent the day out shopping for a new bed set, new kitchenware, and new decorations to put up around the house. When he got back home, he rearranged every room and cleaned the house from top to bottom. He truly loved the town house and nothing, not even the memory of Katrina and Abraham inside, would ruin it.

The first night was the hardest. He'd grown used to there being another person in the house and now it was only him. He felt quite alone. He tossed and turned, not falling asleep until nearly five in the morning.

He spent most of the next day outside cutting the grass in the front and backyard. He moved around the patio furniture and turned over the soil in the flower beds before watering everything. After taking a lunch break, he was back outside and had just finished cleaning the garage when a dark car pulled up. Abbie got out and he saw that she was holding a bag of what appeared to be Chinese take-out.

"I brought you some dinner. You wanna take a break for a bit?" She asked as she sat down in one of the folding chairs in the garage.

"I need only to wash my car first and I will be done for the day."

Abbie ate her food in silence as she watched him. He seemed quite intent, an expression of concentration on his face. She looked away, an uncomfortable feeling spreading through her chest. She knew it was strange and foolish to feel attracted to him. They hadn't known each other long but the events of the last few days certainly made it feel the opposite.

She wasn't really a person that cared for relationships. Sure, they were fun in the beginning but they just became time consuming and hectic after a while. Still, some part of her wanted to know how far it could go if either one of them felt like anything was there.

"I'm finished. Perhaps we could head inside now."

Lost in her thoughts, she hadn't noticed that Crane was done with his car. She held the bag out to him and he ate quickly and silently.

"You're awfully quiet today." she commented.

"I'm thinking."

"About?"

"How I will build a life that Katrina is not a part of."

* * *

 


	4. Only Ones Who Know

_**I hope you're holding hands by New Year's Eve. - Only Ones Who Know (AM)** _

* * *

 

Crane did not see or speak to Abbie for the rest of the week. He felt the need to be totally alone with himself to process the change that occurred.

The night that Abbie brought him food, he tossed and turned the entire night before a solution came to him. He needed to get away, to go to a place neither he nor Katrina had ever been. He packed his car quickly, intending to head out to a camping lodge that wasn't far from Sleepy Hollow.

He arrived just before dawn and found that the lodge was mostly deserted as it was the middle of the week. He secured a cabin slightly farther away than the rest and made himself at home.

He set his school and personal e-mails thave an automated response should anyone attempt to contact him and set his phone to airplane mode. As painful as it might be, he needed to be alone with his thoughts.

It was when he sat in front of the fireplace that night that he finally let his thoughts roam. In the cabin, he didn't feel like he had to fight to contain his thoughts or reel them back if they strayed too far.

He thought back to the first time he remembered seeing Katrina truly as a woman. They'd grown up together but it was seeing here during his first winter break from Oxford that something changed.

* * *

" _Why are you all alone out here?" a soft voice asked, scaring hi_ _m half to death._

_The night was ice cold. Ichabod had snuck out to the backyard to get away from his father's Christmas party, and though it was so cold that he could barely feel his hands or face, he refused to go back in._

"Oh. _Katrina," he said with a smile. "Just needed some air is all."_

_He felt as if he were seeing her for the first time. She was somehow the girl he'd known all his life but something felt different, new. Perhaps it was her red hair, which under the moon seemed a much deeper shade. Perhaps it was the way the yard lights sparkled in her eyes. It could even have been the fact that her face was red, possibly from drinking too much spiked eggnog. There was an easy smile on her face that proved to be somewhat infectious._

_"Well, come on then. It's nearly time to open gifts." She said, extending her arm out for him to take._

_"We usually don't open our gifts until Christmas morning. It's not even Christmas Eve yet."_

_"I know," she replied as she pulled him inside and up the stairs to his room. "I got you something."_

_When they arrived to his room, there was a somewhat large box on the bed and he gave her a questioning look before she indicated that he should open it._

_For a reason he couldn't pinpoint, he wanted to be as careful as possible with the wrapping paper. After five painstaking minutes, he'd taken the gift from its confines: it was a stack of books._

_He noticed there were two books concerning Latin and the other three were books about various empires and dynasties important to human history._

_He was elated._

_"I didn't know what to get you so I asked your dad what kind of books you liked and, well…" she trailed off as she waited to hear his reaction._

_"I love them." Ichabod replied quite simply._

_He stood with the books in his hands, prepared to go show his father when Katrina stopped him on the way out._

_"Merry Christmas, Ichabod." She said before kissing and cheek and disappearing from the room. His face felt warm and like it was buzzing._

_He hoped and prayed he would see her again before he left to return to school._

* * *

It seemed a lifetime ago. A fond smile took residence upon his face as he thought of that memory. It wasn't long after that they began to date. He found himself wondering at which point after that night did his feelings for her change. He wondered if he'd seen the warning signs that they weren't meant for one another. If he had, he knew with certainty that he'd ignored them.

He fell asleep in the chair in front of the fireplace and woke early the next day, surprised at having slept nearly an entire day. Though seeing as his sleep schedule was shot to hell, he found he didn't mind much.

He was gathering a bag outside on the porch of the cabin when he heard someone approaching him. He spun around, alert, and noticed a tall man with dark skin standing near him.

"You here by yourself?" The man asked.

"I am." Crane replied warily.

"Relax, man. I'm Frank Irving, captain of Sleepy Hollow PD. If you have any problems while you're here, let me know." He gave a friendly wave and went about his way.

Crane nodded his thanks and went on his way. There were apparently hot springs not far from the camp grounds and he fully intended to make use of them.

* * *

Work was boring. Since Abbie worked mainly day shifts during the week and night shifts only on Fridays and Saturdays, life as the head of campus security was quiet.

With the exception of a party that got too rowdy, there was nothing to report. She hoped things would pick up soon enough. The one thing she missed as an FBI agent was the action. But after the bad case she had, she knew she needed to step back for a bit.

"I brought you lunch. Thai food." Abbie looked up to see her sister standing there with two bags outstretched.

"Oh, you know the way to my heart."

They ate in silence, neither one of them caring to talk when they had good food to fill their mouths instead. When they finished, Abbie went to throw the trash away and came back with two water bottles that were drained in less than a minute.

"So, you like it here?" Jenny asked after awhile.

"I don't know. It's boring, even by college standards."

"Oh, come on, Abbie, there has to be something about this place you like."

Crane was the first person to come to mind and she shook her head firmly, both in an answer to Jenny's question and to rid her mind of Crane. She hadn't even heard from them since the day after his fight with his wife.

"Hey, do you know if anything is going on with Dr. Crane? He didn't show up for class last Friday and now he's cancelled class for the week."

Abbie shrugged. "I'm just campus security, Jenny. If there was something important, you'd know about it already." Apart from that she wasn't really sure if divulging the great soap opera she'd experienced over the weekend was wholly appropriate since Crane was Jenny's professor.

"But, he was at the party Friday evening." Jenny replied immediately with a smirk. "Did you think I didn't see the two of you heading up to the third floor?"

Abbie rolled her eyes and put her head in her hands. Jenny never missed anything. She had eyes like a hawk. "It's not like that, Jenny. Besides he has a wife anyway and don't even get me started on that whole debacle."

Jenny raised an eyebrow in surprise before giving Abbie a look that begged her to share but it turned to disappointment when Abbie shook her head. "Nothing interesting ever happens to me so let me live through you! I won't tell a soul. I swear." She held out her pinky in front of Abbie who eyed it in annoyance.

After a while, Abbie took it. "Long story short, imagine an episode of Cheaters and that's pretty much what happened Saturday for him."

Jenny gasped. "Abbie, you didn't-"

"Hell no! He found out his wife's been cheating on him since before they even got married. I had to break him and the side guy up from fighting each other."

Jenny exhaled with raised eyebrows. "Yikes. But you know what this means, right? He's a free man."

Abbie scoffed. "Please. Barely. Besides, that is drama on drama that I really don't need right now."

Her sister shrugged in response. "I guess that's true too. But don't shut him down. He can seem a bit uptight sometimes but he's a good guy."

Ten minutes later and Jenny was gone, sprinting across campus to her geology class. Other than Abbie, there were four other officers. Two, Jamie Henderson and Eli Parker, worked the booth at the front of campus. The other two, Alicia Lopez and Harvey Santos, went back and forth between the office and the rest of campus. Tarrytown State was a small and quiet university which made their jobs very easy and, for Abbie, mind numbing.

The day eventually came to a close and Abbie was home quickly. It felt odd to live in a house that almost felt too big for her at times.

She cleaned her house, hoping that the exhaustion from that would double on top of her exhaustion from the day. She wanted to be asleep very quickly tonight.

After making a small dinner that consisted of a giant salad, she wallowed in the warm bathwater for nearly an hour before getting out. It was nearly 9pm and though it was early for her, Abbie got ready for bed.

She wondered how Crane was doing and whether or not she should continue trying to get to know him. He was a nice man, if a bit eccentric. She didn't understand why she felt attracted to him. He wasn't her type at all but her feelings were what they were.

Still, she didn't care for relationships and this would be no different. She and Crane would just have to be friends and that was all there was to it.

* * *

He came back the following Saturday and turned his email and phone back on. The time away had done him some good. He was trying to keep his anger centered at the way he and Katrina came upon their divorce rather than Katrina herself. It was easier said than done, but he was trying.

He'd thought about asking Ms. Mills if she wanted to join him for dinner as he felt a connection with her, but he didn't want to confuse his feelings for her with what he had for Katrina. He knew the feelings for his now ex-wife would take a while to go away.

Crane could not deny that he'd certainly felt something upon meeting Ms. Mills. He remembered how being around her made him feel better. He remembered how her voice had made him smile the day they met. He wanted to take a chance, to test the waters, but it was far too soon.

He would have to settle for her friendship for the time being.


	5. No.1 Party Anthem

_**It's not like I'm falling in love. I just want you to do me no good. You look like you could. - No. 1 Party Anthem (AM)** _

* * *

 

Getting over Katrina would prove to be no easy task. The feeling of optimism he'd felt was gone, replaced instead by a depression he had not felt in a long time.

On his first day back, he missed his alarm and was nearly an hour late. He skipped his usual morning shower and decided that the clothes he wore the previous day would be fit to wear that morning. He had no time for breakfast and had not made his lunch: these were things Katrina had done for him when things between them were still wonderful.

He ambled into his office, nearly slamming the door behind him. On his desk were stacks of papers that should have been graded over the previous week but had not been touched.

His eyes hurt slightly from his staggered sleeping pattern. His head felt heavy on his shoulders. He wanted to be in his bed, in their bed, but he had to remind himself how Katrina hurt him to pull himself back from that thought.

Her betrayal hurt more than Ichabod was adequately able to express. Perhaps it was because he'd known her nearly all his life and for most of that time, they'd been friends. Perhaps it was because he always trusted her blindly, even when she stayed later and later at her shop, though even that was now in question.

The truth of the matter was that thinking about Katrina hurt. He was instantly reminded of her infidelity, though the memories of how loving she'd been to him came after, making it a thousand times worse.

Every good memory Ichabod Crane had of Katrina became tinged with bitterness, sadness, and suspicion.

His classes passed by in a blur. He could remember giving a lecture from one of the many slideshows he maintained year to year, possibly for reasons such as this. If his students picked up on his mood, they didn't say anything. He was glad for it.

His mind was a jumbled mess and it was all he could do to focus on the road when he drove back home. As he walked through the door, he couldn't help wondering that perhaps he should sell the townhouse. Yes, he loved it and had promised he wouldn't let anything change that love, but it was already beginning to be too much.

He didn't turn on any lights as he floated through the house into the kitchen. He opened the fridge and sat on the floor in front of it, taking out leftover pizza and eating three slices consecutively.

Somehow, he managed a shower and got to his bed, collapsing on top with no worry for blankets. His cell phone rang and he reached out to answer.

"Ichabod. How are you?" It was Katrina. He would be lying if he'd said the smallest part of him hadn't been happy to hear her voice.

"I am well." It was quite close to a lie, and as he put as much happiness into his voice as he could muster, he felt she didn't need to know that.

"I'm happy to hear it. I just wanted to let you know the divorce has been finalized. You should receive notification in a few days, but I…I wanted to tell you first."

"Wonderful." he replied tightly.

"Ichabod, there was something else. I just...well I wanted to say I'm so sorry for what I did. I was selfish and I should have told you earlier that I felt our marriage had run its course. Can you ever forgive me?"

"Some day." He didn't sound angry or hurt necessarily, though his voice contained no emotion.

"That is fair."

Silence stretched between them and he wondered if he should hang up. He closed his eyes hard before asking, "Katrina, was all this worth it? Are you happy?"

"I am."

"Then, know this: I may despise Abraham with all my being but do not do to him what you did to me. No one, not even that scum, deserves it."

"You have my word."

Ichabod refrained from retorting that her word didn't carry much weight with him but he bit his tongue and instead bid her goodnight.

Knowing that his marriage was definitively over felt...odd. He wasn't sure if he felt joy or sadness or a mix of both. But he knew now that it was time to move on with his life.

It would be difficult, but Ichabod Crane was determined to be happy again.

* * *

Despite Jenny's advice, Abbie stayed away from Crane. She figured it might be best for him to be alone and come to terms with the end of his relationship. Her presence surely wouldn't help.

She saw him in passing earlier in the day. He looked like shit and she had half a mind to ask if he was ok. But she was determined to give him his space.

Abbie was out getting food from the grocery store when she saw him. He was farther away and he wasn't looking in her direction at all. But she recognized him all the same.

He was examining a carton of almond milk, looking surprised that such a thing existed. She wanted to call out to him, to say hello, but maybe he didn't want to be bothered by anyone.

With a sigh, she turned around and walked in the opposite direction toward the check-out line, oblivious to the fact that he'd turned and saw her just as she'd turned away.

Crane frowned as he watched her head toward the front of the store. She must have seen him. But why had she not spoken to him?

He put the carton of almond milk in his basket and decided it was time that he too checkout. By the time he got to the front, Abbie was taking the last of her bags from the cashier and heading out of the store. He breezed through the checkout line, hoping she hadn't left yet.

It was just his luck that caught her loading her groceries into her car. It was even more lucky that he'd parked not far from her.

"Miss Mills!" he called out, watching her jump slightly in surprise but happy to see a small smile sliding across her face.

"Crane. What are you doing here?"

He held his grocery bags up and she smiled. "Do you need any help?"

"No, this is the last of it. Haven't heard from you in a while. Everything ok?" Abbie asked, closing her trunk and leaning on it.

He sighed and gave her a genuine smile. "In all honesty, no. But I am certain it will be."

"Good to hear." She patted him on the arm as she walked past him to the driver's side of her car. "See you around, Crane."

He frowned again, wondering why she seemed to be putting more distance between them. Maybe she thought he didn't want to talk to her. If that were the case, she was certainly wrong.

"Abbie, wait!" Crane called out. She spun around, surprise registering on her face. "I...I'm making dinner."

She nodded slowly, a crooked smile on her face as she looked at him with amusement. "So am I, Crane."

He shook his head, cursing to himself before replying. "What I mean to say is that I was wondering if you would like to have dinner at my home." He frowned toward the end of his sentence, thinking he sounded rather daft.

Momentary shock flew across her face though it was replaced by a small smile. "That sounds nice, Crane. How about tomorrow evening?"

"Lovely. I shall expect you at 8 o'clock."

* * *

"You're going on a date with Crane tonight! Alright, go Abbie!" Jenny and Abbie were eating lunch together again, this time salads.

Abbie rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. Barely."

"Abs, he asked you to dinner. At his house. I think that's a date. If it wasn't he wouldn't have asked." Jenny replied, pointing her fork at her sister.

"He's not even ready to date! He just got divorced and that's because his wife cheated on him with his ex-best friend. Trust me, Jenny, he isn't ready to date."

"People make exceptions all the time, Abbie. Now stop being so negative and tell me what you're thinking about wearing. You need something hot." A large smile spread across Jenny's face and she took her phone out. "I have the perfect thing. Remember that white dress I bought for my birthday that I never wore?"

Abbie's eyes went wide. "Oh, not that one."

"Yes, that one."

* * *

After Abbie's work day ended, Jenny insisted that she come to her apartment to get ready instead of going home. Deciding that protesting wouldn't be much help to her, she let Jenny work her magic. She would be lying if she'd said that she wasn't even the tiniest bit excited for the evening.

When Jenny finished, it was nearly 8 o'clock, a fact Abbie cursed her sister for to which she responded that beauty took time.

When Abbie arrived at Crane's home which was across from her own, it was in a white dress that had a splash of red across the center in the shape of an abstract flower and cap sleeves. Despite her judgement, she wore black heels that were somewhat comfortable and red lipstick that brought out the flower on her dress. Her wavy hair was pulled back on one side with a red and white clip.

When Crane finally heard his doorbell ring, a jolt of excitement shot through him and he checked his appearance quickly in the hall mirror before answering the door.

He was sufficiently stunned to see Abbie Mills on his doorstep. She looked even more beautiful without work clothes and he felt his heart beat quickly. She gave him a nervous smile, that he returned with one of his own.

"You look nice, Crane." Abbie said as she stepped into his house. He'd changed some things around and it looked like a different house on the inside.

"I would say the same for you, Miss Mills, but it would not be adequate."

She felt her face heating up as she followed the smell of delicious food to the kitchen. On the large island was a small meal of baked salmon, brown rice, and asparagus with glasses of white wine accompanying.

Abbie kicked her shoes off as she sat down in one of the chairs in front of the island. Crane did the same and Abbie could've sworn the lights didn't feel as dim as she could see they now were.

They made small talk as they got through their food. They both finished about the same time and pushed their plates aside before taking a sip of wine.

"That was amazing, Crane. Where'd you learn to cook like that?" Abbie asked with a smile.

"A great cook never reveals his secrets."

They both laughed and when they finally caught their breath they took another sip of wine.

"I find I am quite glad that you decided to join me tonight. I felt quite certain that you would say no."

"I don't turn down free food." Abbie answered with a small laugh of her own. "But, seriously, I don't know why I said yes. Maybe it's because you've just been...busy lately. I'm sure there's a lot on your mind at the moment."

Crane frowned, finally understanding why Abbie had chosen not to talk to him. She was trying to give him space to process his divorce. "Miss Mills, should I require space or should I wish not to speak with you, I will certainly let you know."

She gave him a small nervous smile before draining the last of her wine. She stood and stretched her arms over her head. "What do you want to do now?"

He shrugged as he started putting the plates into the sink. She came behind him and began to run hot water with soap. He gave her an absolutely confused look. "What on earth are you doing, Abbie?"

She pushed him over and away from the sink with her hips. "Washing my dishes. Go get a towel." Her tone, though joking, left no room for debate and retrieved the towel with a long suffering sigh.

It turned out that Abbie had not meant that she would wash only the plate she used. She ended up washing most of the dishes in the sink and handing them off to Crane who dried and put them away.

"You didn't need to do that." Crane said as they sat down on the sofa sometime later. He was on the left side and she on the right, stretching her legs out but being sure to keep some distance from him.

"I was always taught that when you're a guest at someone's house for dinner, you help them clean up after." She gave him a shrug and leaned back against one of the large pillows.

She stared at him for a long while, trying to ignore the wonderful effects the dim lighting had on Crane's face. His eyes looked dark blue now his face more relaxed than she'd previously seen it. He caught her staring and her face heated as she stared up at the ceiling.

"Is this a date, Crane?" she asked a second time, for the first time had come out in a rushed jumble he had not been able to understand.

He looked at her, truly looked at her now. He knew he hadn't asked her over for dinner as a friend. Even though he was still struggling with being divorced he certainly could not deny the feelings that were starting to grow for Abbie Mills.

"Yes. If you wish it to be."

Abbie felt her stomach's butterflies go into overdrive as she processed his words. Jenny had been right. This was a date. She found that it didn't feel so horrible to think about now.

"I want it to be."

"Then, yes, it is a date."


	6. D is For Dangerous

**_I think you should know you're his favorite worst nightmare. -D is For Dangerous (AM)_ **

* * *

 

They were watching a movie. It had been two weeks since their first date and Crane was showing a movie in the lecture auditorium as extra credit for his U.S. History class. He and Abbie sat at the very back.

It was Abbie's lunch break, which she'd decided to put off until the last hour of her work day. She leaned on his shoulder and her eyes drifted shut. She hadn't gotten much sleep the night before and it was catching up to her.

He looked down at her curiously and a small smile came to his face. They'd decided to take things day by day, partially because thinking longterm made Crane feel extremely nervous. He still wasn't sure he could trust someone the way he'd trusted Katrina.

He snaked his large hand into Abbie's small hand and she opened her eyes and looked up at him. "What's that for?"

"Your hands are cold." He stated in reply.

She smiled and closed her eyes again, only to have them shoot open when they both heard a high pitched scream. Abbie shot up, her hand on her gun as they both scanned the lecture auditorium.

The smell of smoke suddenly filled the air Abbie's eyes widened. "Crane, get them out of here. Now. Go!" She rushed away from him toward the doors of the auditorium and shoved them, coming out into the hallway.

The entire hall was filled with smoke, though it seemed to be coming from the second floor. Cursing, she pulled the fire alarm and used her key to trigger the sprinklers before heading for the stairs.

"This Officer Abigail Mills requesting backup in the Ward College of Engineering. Be advised that firemen and EMT may be necessary."

"Copy that. ETA is five minutes."

Abbie raced up the stairs and saw half of the floor in flames. The sprinklers were helping but it wouldn't be enough. She heard a scream again and ran toward it. She came to a section of offices and inside one was a professor who couldn't have been much older than Crane.

She was trying to get out of the office when someone ran behind her with a knife. Abbie shot through the window, hitting the person in the leg. Through the smoke, she couldn't make out any notable features other than it was possibly a male. The man took off, ignoring Abbie's pleas to stop. His wound did not appear to deter him.

If the building hadn't been on fire, she would have gone after him, but the professor needed her help. Abbie ran in, picking her up as best she could and taking her out by the staircase. She was too heavy to carry alone. She would have to wait for backup.

"He...he…" Abbie looked down, hearing a choking noise as the woman gasped for air. Upon a closer look Abbie noticed that she'd been stabbed in the chest and there was blood coming from her mouth.

"Stay with me, ma'am. Help is on the way, I promise. You can talk later." She held the woman's hand as she nodded. Her eyes started closing and Abbie shook her slightly. "No! Stay awake! Please! You're going to be okay."

But either the woman didn't listen or she was too exhausted because her eyes closed and Abbie could barely feel a pulse. Tears stung her eyes and she quickly blinked them away as she heard rushed footsteps.

Twenty minutes later the woman was in an ambulance on the way to Sleepy Hollow General Hospital and Abbie was giving her statement both to the other campus police officers and to the Sleepy Hollow Police Department.

The fire was determined to be arson, though with Abbie's minimal description of the man fleeing the scene there wasn't much to go on. No one had seen him leave the building and the security cameras conveniently were fried during the ordeal.

"Well, well, well. Lieutenant Abbie Mills as I live in breathe. A little birdy told me you were back in town."

Abbie turned around from the officers she was talking to and a smile crossed her face. "Frank Irving."

He gave her a large smile and hugged her. They laughed as she pulled away. "No offense, Mills, but you smell like barbecue."

"No fault of my own. Somebody stabbed a professor and tried to set the place on fire."

"We'll find whoever did it."

Abbie shrugged. "I don't know, Frank. I barely saw the guy. He got away. I did shoot him in the leg though."

"Then we have somewhere to start. Don't worry. Go home and get some rest. I'll take it from here." He patted her on the shoulder and went to speak with the other officers.

After triple checking that the other campus officers took her statement and shared them with Sleepy Hollow PD, Abbie decided to take heed of Frank's advice.

"Lieutenant?"

It was Crane. She frowned slightly and looked up at him. "What?"

"I heard the captain refer to you as 'lieutenant'."

She nodded in understanding. "Yeah. I used to work for Sleepy Hollow PD before the FBI. Frank and I go way back."

"Are you alright?" Worry shone in his eyes as he touched both her shoulders and looked her over. She brought her hands up to cover his and moved them off.

"I'm good, Crane. Nothing a good shower won't fix. The professor on the other hand-"

"Yes, who was she?"

"I don't know yet. All I know is her office was on the second floor of the building to the right of the staircase where all the other offices are."

Crane sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I am sure we will find out soon enough. But it shall do no good standing here and waiting around. I'll take you home."

She protested and told him she could get home in her own car. He acquiesced but promised to come over and check in on her as soon as he got back from the school.

After an hour long phone call wherein Abbie assured Jenny that she was okay, she finally was free to take a shower. Just as she started the water, her cell phone rang and Frank's name flashed across the screen.

"Yeah?"

"The professor died at the hospital. Her name was Charlotte Wilcox and she taught archaeology."

A long breath fell from Abbie's mouth as she closed her eyes, cursing to herself. Maybe if she'd gotten to the woman faster she might have survived.

"Does she have any family to notify?"

"Husband and three kids: 8, 4, and 2 years of age." Though Frank was trying to sound as clinical as possible, Abbie could hear the sadness in his voice. "I'm going to contact them when I finish with you."

"Go on, then. Let me know if anything else happens."

Abbie felt numb. It had been some time since she'd seen someone die in front of her. Uncomfortably, she was reminded of the reason she'd left the FBI to begin with.

* * *

_Danny and Abbie were undercover in stolen jewelry ring. They'd been working for months and now they were finally closing in. Their relationship had taken a backseat once the undercover operation went underway. But it seemed to be paying off now. They'd secured a meeting with the head of the ring: Henry Parrish._

_So far, they'd been unable to pin anything on him. He made certain nothing ever came back to him and his band of thugs, The Horsemen, did all his dirty work._

_"Is the wire on?" Abbie asked, somewhat nervous._

_"Yes. Don't worry. They can hear us back at headquarters. There's backup ten minutes over from the meeting location. We'll be fine." Danny replied with a reassuring smile._

_They arrived at the location, a secluded area of Marsito Bay Docks, and waited for Henry to arrive. When five minutes passed and they still saw no sign of him, Abbie got fidgety._

_"What if he doesn't show?"_

_"He will, Abbie. Relax. We've got this." Danny grabbed her hand and squeezed it tightly._

_They waited another ten minutes before Henry showed up. He was an old man with face like aged leather. His mouth was set in a firm line and his eyes gave the impression that he might be falling asleep any second._

_He smiled a smile that seemed to pull his skin over his bones. "I'm happy to see you made it, Daniel. You will be happy to know I have secured the jewelry you requested of me. A 7th century Byzantine ruby ring and accompanying necklace. I trust you have payment." Henry's voice was deep and precise, every word perfectly pronounced and enunciated._

_Abbie reached down to pick up the briefcase they'd brought with them as Danny reached slowly toward his back pocket._

_"Henry Parrish, you are under arrest for possession of and intent to distribute stolen goods." Danny said, taking out his handcuffs. He hadn't even had them out of his pocket when both he and Abbie heard the click of a gun._

_Abbie's gun was in her hands in seconds aimed at Henry. "Drop your weapon, Mr. Parrish."_

_Henry let out a soft chuckle. "Did you think I was clueless? It wasn't hard to figure out you were both federal agents. I would not allow myself to be found out so easily."_

_One of Parrish's men grabbed Danny and Abbie, holding their arms behind their back tightly. They were outnumbered. Henry Parrish took a handgun from his pocket and handed it to another one of his men and made to walk from the direction he came._

_"Dispose of them."_

_Abbie panicked and kicked her foot back into her captor's groin before elbowing her now free arm into his windpipe. A gunshot rang out as this happened and she froze, turning to see Danny slumped over in his captor's arms, blood dripping in a single stream from the center of his forehead._

_She screamed and scrambled for her gun. She shot the man who shot Danny and hit his captor in the head, knocking him unconscious. She looked around, angry to see that Henry Parrish was gone._

_"Oh, God, Danny!" She bent down and cradled his head in her lap, tears jumping to her eyes as his own unseeing ones bore holes into hers. "No no no, please, Danny." It was no use and she knew it. Danny was dead._

* * *

Abbie blinked hard at the uncomfortable memory as she heard her doorbell ring. The shower was going, though she hadn't gotten it. She hurried downstairs, hoping whoever it was would make whatever they needed to say quick.

"Lieutenant."

Abbie forgot Crane was coming over. She frowned as she realized she probably still smelled like a burning building.

"Crane. I haven't changed yet."

"I am aware. I've brought Thai food for you." He have her a tentative smile as he held up the bag. She smiled back and led him to the kitchen.

"I need to shower and I'm not sure how long that'll take so make yourself at home."

She left him downstairs and hurried back up to the hot shower awaiting her. She took off her clothes and put them in a bag, promising herself that they would go out with the trash, and stepped under the steaming stream.

She closed her eyes and concentrated on how the water felt against her skin. If her mind wandered any further than that she was sure she might start crying. Though she didn't have the energy for it, she washed her hair and let conditioner sit in it as she scrubbed fiercely at her body in an effort to make the smell of smoke and spots of blood go away.

It took her thirty more minutes in the shower and when she finally came back downstairs, her curly hair was in two braids and she was wearing a large t-shirt and shorts.

Crane glanced up as she came back to the kitchen, his eyes traveling over her in a few seconds before he stood from the sofa to greet her.

"Do you feel any better, Lieutenant?"

"You gonna keep calling me that?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I think it suits you."

"I'm not even a lieutenant anymore, Crane."

"Still."

He patted the space beside him on the sofa for her to occupy and pulled a blanket over her from his other side as she leaned into him. He turned his body so that he was holding her from behind and she was laying back against his stomach.

"The professor died." Abbie said simply, the numb feeling she hated making its way back into her stomach. "She had a husband and three little kids."

She felt Crane sigh behind her. "A tragedy. Charlotte and I started teaching at Tarrytown State the same year. She was absolutely amazing in her field. Kindest woman you would ever meet."

Abbie tugged at her lip as she looked down into her lap. Her hands came together nervously, wringing themselves over and over again. "I just keep thinking that...maybe if I could have gotten to her sooner she might have had a chance. She might have lived. Her kids would still have a mom. Her husband would still have a wife. I should have done something more."

"What more could you have done, Abbie? You did what you could and I feel certain Charlotte was comforted knowing she wasn't alone and that someone had come to save her."

"But I didn't save her, Crane. She died anyway. What kind of campus cop am I if I can't even save a professor from being killed?"

She hadn't known Charlotte Wilcox ever even existed before today. But Abbie could not shake the feeling that there was something more she should have done to save her. She should have shot her attacker in the chest instead of the leg.

"You're a damn good one to go rushing through a burning building to save someone. Anyone else would have left and waited for firemen to arrive but not you."

His voice was firm and certain. She felt determination building inside her. She would find whoever killed Charlotte and tried to burn down the engineering building no matter what it took.

She tried to watch the movie that Crane was very much into but found the events of the day catching up to her and her eyes drifted shut as she fell asleep. Not fifteen minutes later, Crane picked her up and carried her to her room.

* * *

_She was at docks again, only this time Danny was yelling at her from his place in her lap. His body was much too heavy and despite his yelling, the light in his eyes was gone. She cried as she tried to save him but nothing happened._

_"Why did you let me die, Abbie? Why did you let them kill me?" He was pleading now, crying just as she was. "I didn't want to die, Abbie. I loved you."_

_"I know, Danny, I'm so sorry!" She sobbed as she buried her face in his shoulder and cried._

_Suddenly, she could smell smoke and when she pulled away it was no longer Danny she saw but Charlotte. She was choking again like she had been the last time Abbie saw her._

_"H-he-help me."_

_Her body was suddenly engulfed in flames that were racing quickly toward Abbie. She screamed and tried to get away but the flames consumed her too in a pain unlike any she'd know . She screamed until her throat went raw._

_"Abbie!"_

_A voice was calling to her. She knew that voice. But who was it?_

_"Wake up, Abbie."_

* * *

Her eyes shot open, wild and frantic as she backed away from Crane in automatic fear. The ghost of bone penetrating heat flew across her skin. She touched her arms, expecting to feel burns but feeling sweat instead.

Crane was kneeling next to her from his place on the floor where he'd set up a blanket and a pillow. "You were screaming." His voice dripped with concern.

"It was...a nightmare, Crane." Tears jumped to her eyes as she covered her mouth.

"Dear lord, you're shaking." He joined her up on the bed and sat directly in front of her.

She let him reach out to her, let him pull her close to him, let him tell her that it was only a dream and she was fine now. But she couldn't stop shaking. Her throat hurt and her eyes stung from the continuous crying.

"Stay here. I'll get you some water."

He returned with a water bottle that was semi frozen, a fact Abbie could have kissed him for. She needed to get rid of the burning sensation across her body. Abbie drained the bottle in seconds before putting it on her nightstand.

"You stayed?" Abbie asked hoarsely as she looked back up at Crane.

"I was tired from the day's events and I did not have the energy to go home. Thus, I slept on the floor." Abbie didn't respond and Crane grew nervous. "I'm sorry. I should have asked. I shall take my leave now if it pleases you."

"It doesn't. Stay here." She replied quietly.

He nodded and kissed her forehead before settling down on the floor again. Abbie wanted to tell him to come up on the bed, but she didn't want anymore heat. The fire in the dream was far too fresh on her mind.

She got under the blankets to lay on her stomach, reaching her left arm over the edge of the bed. As she drifted back to sleep, she felt Crane's hand in hers and she felt calm again.

"Goodnight, Ms. Mills. Sleep well."


	7. 505

**_Stop and wait a sec. When you look at me like that, my darling, what did you expect? - 505 (AM)_ **

* * *

The funeral was on Abbie's day off. Frank had asked that she come because the family wanted to meet the officer who'd tried to save their loved one's life. Tried. That word stuck in Abbie's brain every morning she woke up and realized Charlotte Wilcox hadn't.

It was held at Sleepy Hollow Baptist Church in the center of Sleepy Hollow. There was a cemetery across from the church that ran two city blocks.

She hadn't decided to dress in anything particularly special. She wore her dark jeans and a sweater underneath her jacket and boots since it was predicted to rain the rest of the week.

"You ok?"

Jenny had come with Abbie to the funeral. Charlotte had been one of Jenny's favorite professors and she cried upon learning it was her who'd been attacked in the engineering building.

"I'm fine."

They were waiting in the foyer of the church to go in and be seated. As the crowd moved they headed in and Abbie stopped short when she saw the open casket at the front of the church.

She felt a little dizzy and felt her feet turn to lead. Why had she thought attending this funeral would be a good idea?

"Abbie, come on. We should pay our respects." Jenny said, dragging her further up toward the front.

Abbie resisted once they came to the row where Charlotte's family was, refusing to go any further. "No. You go ahead."

Jenny nodded after a while and went up to the casket.

"You must be Officer Mills."

Abbie looked over and saw a man who appeared to be in his late thirties or early forties with dark hair and puffy red eyes staring over at her. In his lap was a toddler, a little girl with a head of curly brown hair, and next to him two small children were crying silently.

"I'm Evan Wilcox. I'm Charlotte's husband."

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Wilcox. I really wish it were under better circumstances. I'm… I'm so sorry I couldn't-"

"You did everything in your power to do. We don't blame you for her death." His voice was hoarse, the kind of hoarse from crying for hours and hours.

"We will find who did this. We will get justice for her." Abbie promised, trying to muster a small smile before looking up front to see if Jenny was done.

It was as Jenny moved aside that Abbie caught a glimpse of Charlotte's face up close. Her skin was a waxy white color and her dark brown hair fanned out across the casket pillow. She was wearing a midnight blue dress and her left hand was folded over her right, her wedding ring glinting in the light. It truly did look as if she were asleep. But all Abbie could see was her in her last moments and tears sprung to her eyes.

"She didn't feel a thing, Mr. Wilcox. It was quick. Painless." Abbie was lying through her teeth and she suspected Evan Wilcox knew it. Still, he gave her a small smile and thanked her.

Abbie didn't wait for Jenny. The funeral was too much for her to handle and she was reminded uncomfortably of Danny's funeral.

* * *

_"It's gone." Abbie said, her voice devoid of any emotion._

_"What is?" One of her colleagues asked._

_Abbie looked down at Danny in the casket and tried to quash the feeling of absolute dread and hopelessness that filled her. She allowed a small smile as she noticed he was wearing his favorite suit and his New England Patriots socks. Her gaze travelled back up to his face, to the center of his head._

_There was no evidence of a bullet hole. If Abbie hadn't seen him die before her eyes she would never have guessed that he had been shot._

_"What's gone, Abbie?" Her colleague asked again._

_Abbie sighed and rested her hand on Danny's face. It was cold and felt like stone. She bent down and pressed her lips to his forehead, some illogical part of her hoping he would just wake up. But he didn't. He never would again._

_"It's like it never even happened."_

* * *

Abbie fought back hard tears as she drove back to her house. Crane called and told her he was finished running errands and asked if she felt like having him over. She told him she would.

She got home before he arrived and changed into a large long sleeved t-shirt that had once belonged to Danny and tights. She pulled her hair back and hoped she looked vaguely presentable when Crane came around. She texted him to inform him the door was unlocked and she would be up in her room.

A part of her wanted desperately to just sleep, but the dreams she'd been having made her afraid to do so. She pulled one of many pillows from behind her and pulled it to her chest, hugging it tightly and crying silently.

As strong as Abbie Mills tried to be, she did not handle death well. Charlotte's death was a reminder of everything she'd tried to avoid by leaving the FBI. She thought she'd gotten over Danny's death but she was wrong.

"Ms. Mills?"

Abbie heard the front door open and Crane's voice. She sat up and wiped her eyes quickly, bring up her t-shirt to wipe stray tears. "Up here." She called out as she raced to the bathroom. She splashed cold water on her face and grabbed a towel to dry her face.

"How was the-"

"Can we not talk about it?" Abbie's voice cracked despite trying to make it look like she was fine.

Crane stood in the doorway a little straighter. He looked at her closely, his eyebrows furrowing as she walked past him to her room.

"You've been crying."

Abbie froze and sat down on the bed in an almost robotic fashion. She really didn't feel like telling Crane that she'd been crying in the first place, let alone why. "No, I haven't. Just allergies acting up again."

He frowned at her as he sat down on the edge of the bed next to her. "I do not, for a second, believe that to be true."

Crane offered his hand to her and she took it, squeezing it tightly. She doubled over as a fresh wave of tears came over her. "God, my chest hurts." She said, her voice thick with impending tears.

"I know." Crane said as he pulled her to him. He guided them backward so that he was on his back and she was lying halfway across his chest.

He wrapped his arms around her, knowing that there was something he'd yet to learn about her that was making her feel the way she did. He thought about how close they'd gotten in the time they'd known each other.

Had it been someone else, Crane would have been terrified and he would've been stretching in preparation to run for the hills. There was something between he and Abbie that felt organic, real. There was something between them that he was learning not to be afraid of. He wasn't sure he could identify what that thing was. He wasn't sure if he wanted to.

"I should have done more to save her. I should've killed the bastard that did it in the first place." She sobbed into his chest.

"You did everything you could have done, Abbie. What you did...if you hadn't gone up to follow the smoke, you might never have even known she was in there. Her final moments would have been an entirely different story. I cannot imagine how afraid she must have felt, and the relief that must have joined it when she saw your face."

"I lied to her, Crane. I told her...I told her she would be okay and I...I lied." her voice was quiet now, though she was still crying silently.

Crane sighed and held her tighter. "You need to forgive yourself. You will be unable to live properly with that guilt gnawing at you from the inside out."

"I know." she responded quietly. "Charlotte wasn't the first person I've seen die in front of me. But for some reason...this was in my

control, Crane. This death was something I could have stopped even if the others weren't."

"Others?"

She sighed and moved off of him before sitting up and folding her legs. "My mom and...Danny."

Crane moved swiftly to mirror Abbie's position and he placed his hands in his lap, assuming that Abbie might want a little space. "I...you are not obligated to tell me anymore than that, Lieutenant."

Abbie shook her head and gave him a small smile. "No, you deserve to know. You'll understand why Charlotte's death...why it feels the way it does for me."

He nodded and gestured for her to continue.

"My mother killed herself when me and Jenny were kids. She had her own issues. Schizophrenia, I think, but we never really knew for sure. She said she saw demons and monsters and it made her afraid to leave the house. It got bad for her. She tried to push through for us but I guess she got tired. We went to wake her up one morning and I noticed blood on the sheets. Jenny called the ambulance and I held her hand and begged her not to leave, to wait until the ambulance got there. She told me she loved me, told me to take care of Jenny, and she died as the ambulance pulled up."

She looked down into her lap as tears fell from her eyes. She refused to look at him directly while crying. It made her feel weak. He reached out and held her hands tightly. "I'm so sorry."

Abbie shrugged and took a deep breath as she told Crane about Danny, her partner from the FBI with whom she'd been romantically involved. Despite the amount of time that had passed, it didn't hurt her any less to talk about his death. Until the day she died, she would never believe Danny's death wasn't on her, that she could have stopped it somehow.

Crane listened as Abbie explained why she was so upset about Charlotte. It was surprising to hear Abbie talk about her past. She'd been rather closed off with him up to that point. He'd wondered if she trusted him yet and he the same about her. But listening to her, knowing that she'd chosen him to confide in, he knew he trusted her the same way she trusted him. He knew that he didn't need to run away from whatever was between them.

"What all of those moments have in common, Abbie, are that you tried to help. You did all you knew how to do in those moments, in moments where most people wouldn't have even been able to do what you did, to exhibit the bravery that you have. What all of those moments prove to me is that your bravery did not die with your mother or Danny or Charlotte. It is very much alive in you, Ms. Mills. You should know that." Crane said after a long while, gripping her hands firmly and matching her stare firmly.

She smiled a bit as she looked down, her face warming from Crane's speech. "Well, aren't you a hard act to follow."

He laughed in response and pulled her toward his chest to hug her tightly. "Sometimes, I exhibit occasional wisdoms."

Their moment was interrupted by Abbie's phone ringing. She muttered a short apology before reaching across the bed to her phone, noticing Frank's name on the screen.

"Yeah?"

"Abbie, I got something I think you're gonna like. Security camera outside the entrance to the generator room captured our guy as he was leaving. Can't see his face but there's a tattoo taking up most of his left arm. It's a knight on a horse surrounded by fire as far as I can tell."

"Can't be a whole lot of people in Sleepy Hollow with that kind of ink. Any matches so far?"

"Nothing concrete. But we have a start, Mills. Thought you'd want to know that."

Abbie sighed and a small smile came to her face. "Thanks, Frank. A start is fine. It means it's the beginning of finding that asshole."

Frank let out a loud laugh from the other end. "Jenny Mills is rubbing off on you, Abbie."

"Yeah, maybe. You know what they say about apples and trees. Thanks again, Frank. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

Crane watched her, happy to note that her phone call from Captain Frank Irving had seemed to lift her spirits slightly. "Well?"

"Guy who killed Charlotte has a tattoo on his left arm of a knight on a horse surrounded by fire. We may be able to figure out if there are any tattoo artists who've done that piece recently. It could help us ID Charlotte's killer."


	8. Reckless Serenade

**_I've been trying to figure out exactly what it is I need, call_ ** **_up to listen to the voice of reason and_ ** **_got the answering machine -Reckless Serenade (AM)_ **

* * *

Abbie did what she'd always done during times of emotional distress: she threw herself into her work. As it happened, it was nearly Thanksgiving and Abbie wanted to get as much she could done. She tried not to stay in the office too much and relegated paperwork to Officer Lopez and Santos, who were more than happy to get a break from patrolling the school.

She didn't get to see Crane or Jenny much. Jenny was preparing for midterms which had the misfortune of being only three weeks before finals this school year. Crane was much the same, though he'd become buried in all the essays he had to grade.

It was the weekend before Thanksgiving and Abbie got home quite late. Her schedule allowed her to be off Saturday and Sunday which she was simultaneously annoyed and happy for.

Abbie couldn't participate in the investigation of Charlotte's murder as much as she would have liked. She could only investigate it on the campus and since the engineering building was now undergoing reconstruction from the fire, it wasn't as if Abbie could go into Charlotte's office. She would need to ask Charlotte's colleagues if there had been anything she'd been working on that could have led to her death.

But she couldn't think about work. Not when she had two off days back to back. She knew she needed to take some time to slow down and breathe.

Getting through her grief at Charlotte's death and Danny's by extension, she felt markedly better. She felt motivated, renewed in her fight to find whoever murdered Charlotte.

Abbie thought about Crane, thought of how he had been there for her when she needed him. Needed him. She hadn't known she needed him until he was there. She wondered when it got that way.

In actuality, they hadn't known each other long. But it felt different. There was no rush between the two of them to move quickly. Things were slow and that was fine with them both.

* * *

"I trust you left no trace, Abraham."

"I didn't. The building was in flames when I left. But someone was shooting at me. A woman. Campus cop, probably. I retrieved the obsidian dagger as you requested."

A low growl sounded in the older man's throat before a deep laugh escaped him. "Abigail Mills." His voice dripped with dislike.

"Who is she?" Abraham asked.

"You would call her 'the one who got away', I believe. But all in due time. I believe I shall quite enjoy what I have planned for her."

* * *

Crane's eyes were swimming. His head ached from the essays he'd been grading for the last hour. He put the essays aside, vowing to take the night off and complete them through the rest of the weekend.

He stood and stretched, groaning in pleasure as he felt his limbs loosen from their stiff positions. He decided that he would turn in for the night. His grading had kept him from seeing Abbie as often as he would have liked. While he knew she would surely be awake, he wanted to give her time to catch up with all that she'd experienced. No one knew better than he how changes could affect a person.

Crane stood under the hot shower for nearly fifteen minutes and while he lamented his excessive use of water, he could not deny that his body felt warm and relaxed. He wouldn't even need tea to go to sleep tonight.

As he lay on his back in the center of the bed, Crane's thoughts wandered to Abbie as they usually did as of late. She was nothing like Katrina. While some part of his heart would always hold a place for Katrina, he could not deny that there was a large vacancy in his heart that was slowly being filled by Abigail Mills.

It felt as if he'd known her forever, as if there was something pulling them together. What he was beginning to feel for Abbie was unlike anything he'd felt for Katrina. Crane was still apprehensive about identifying his feelings for Abbie. He was willing to wait until he no longer felt afraid to come to terms with his feelings.

Things with him and Abbie were everything he could have hoped for. She was completely in agreement that they should take things day by day, as slowly as necessary. That was something he valued greatly in her. Though they were very different people, it seemed they usually understood one another.

His phone rang then, making him flinch and blink hard at the noise. He reached over, nearly knocking the phone over as he grabbed it. A rush of happiness sped through him when he saw Abbie's name on the screen.

"It's late, Lieutenant." Crane answered, using his free hand to rub his suddenly sleepy eyes.

"Were you asleep?" Abbie asked, sounding far more awake than one should be at such a late hour.

"I should be. Grading essays has my mind thoroughly exhausted. Might I inquire as to the reason for your call?" Crane let his eyes travel up to the ceiling, looking at no particular spot. He suddenly could not shake the feeling that his bed felt too big and he too lonely.

Abbie sighed on her end. She'd cleaned up, taken a shower, even made chamomile tea, but she couldn't sleep. She lay under the blankets on the right side of her bed, relishing in the way her skin rubbed against the soft, cool sheets. If only she could get to sleep. Then, she would be totally relaxed.

"I can't sleep, Crane."

He inhaled a bit and exhaled as he rolled over onto his right side. "That's quite unfortunate. I'm exhausted."

"Oh, nevermind! Go to sleep. I'll talk to you-"

"No, Ms. Mills. You're fine. Why are you unable to sleep? Is it the case?"

"Yes. Kind of. I feel like I need to be moving all the time, like I can't ever rest. When I do, I'm restless. I feel restless."

"I am familiar with the feeling, Ms. Mills. But I cannot deny that you do need rest. You have been through so much recently. You need to get away from this." Crane answered honestly, his mind already going to the camping ground he'd gone to when Katrina left him.

Abbie was silent for a time before Crane heard her sighing. Her next words gave him pause. "Would you mind coming over?"

His mouth went dry and he closed his eyes tightly. "I...I-"

"It was dumb to ask. Goodnight, Crane." Suddenly the line was dead and the phone felt heavier than before. He wanted to hit himself. Why had he hesitated?

Just as Crane was kicking himself, so too was Abbie. She'd angrily put her phone on the charger, tossing it onto the thankfully carpeted floor. She chided herself for even thinking to ask Crane to come over this late at night.

In all honesty, he had stayed the night at her house before, though he'd been asleep on the floor the whole time. They were dating. It was natural for them to sleep at each other's places. So why did it feel so odd?

Abbie was still lost in thought when she heard a knock from the front door. Frowning, she raced down the stairs and looked through the peephole to see Crane there.

"I thought you weren't coming." She said shortly as she closed the door behind him.

"I don't recall saying I wouldn't come over, Miss Mills."

Abbie raised an eyebrow, her eyes reflecting annoyance. "Well, you're here now, aren't you?" It sounded sarcastic, and Crane had the distinct feeling that he'd somehow made Abbie mad.

"Have I done something wrong, Lieutenant?" Crane hurried after her up the stairs. He was sure if he had been a considerable distance behind her, she might have closed the door to her bedroom in his face.

"You should know me a little better than that by now." She glared at him with her arms folded tightly across her chest. Abigail Mills may have been a short woman, but it did not change how formidable she was when she was annoyed.

"Better than what?"

"What did you think I asked you to come over for, Crane?"

He suddenly understood now why she was upset. "I thought at first that perhaps you meant that you wanted...well, someone to keep you company tonight."

She rolled her eyes and laughed at him. "I do, Crane, but not like that. I just… I thought I might sleep better if you were next to me."

She got under the blankets and patted the space next to her. He joined her and pulled her closer to him so that her head was on his chest.

"Even if you wanted...more than this...I would not object, Abbie." Crane said quietly, his chest vibrating with the sound of his voice.

"I wouldn't object either, Crane. But I want this to be different for both of us. If this happens, I want us to be emotionally invested." Abbie replied honestly. It was true. She was sure if Crane were a different sort of man they might have had sex by now. But he was a man of propriety and while Abbie didn't put a timetable on sex, she got the feeling that Crane did.

"Lieutenant," he breathed out the word with a sigh. "I believe I already am."

Abbie pulled away slightly to look up at him curiously. "What?"

He sighed again and closed his eyes as he tried to gather his thoughts. "There is something between us, Abbie. I feel terrified to even name it, and I refuse to until I am no longer afraid to do so. But whatever this is between us...it is nothing like before and-"

"I understand." Abbie cut him off with a small understanding smile.

Neither one of them were about to profess any declarations of love: it was much too soon for that. But being upfront about how they felt for each other was fine for now. It would suffice.

Abbie leaned up and pressed a kiss against his lips, taking him entirely by surprise. She smiled as she pulled away and turned over so that her back was to him. "Goodnight, Crane."

He stared down at her in shock and surprise, unable to make a sound and certainly unable to decide if the tingling sensation across his lips was unpleasant or not. "Goodnight, Abbie." He managed before reaching to turn off the lamp.

* * *

When Abbie woke up again, it was still dark outside. She glanced at her phone and noticed it was nearly 5am. Crane was fast asleep behind her, his arm wrapped around her stomach to keep her close to him.

She smiled sleepily as she pulled herself closer into his chest. It had been a long time since Abbie had felt safe with anyone. She felt safe with Crane. He was an honorable man, a thoughtful man.

"You're awake." His groggy voice made her jump and she suppressed the shiver that ran down her spine.

"How did you know?"

"I felt you move. I'm a light sleeper."

Neither one of them said anything for a few moments, but finally Crane did. "Abbie, you need your rest."

She stared out the window, at the darkened sky with the last vestiges of stars showing. "I know."

"Did you have a bad dream?"

"No, thankfully. I just...I got lost looking out at the sky. That's all."

It helped her to get away from herself for a time, to feel something bigger than just her. She thought about the universe, thought about how many events must have had to happen for her to meet Crane when she did. She wondered what events had gone into motion in the universe to cause Charlotte's death, to cause Danny's.

She found herself hoping that they were in better places. Abbie wasn't all that religious but she prayed anyway that Danny and Charlotte were in places free of sadness and pain and worry. She prayed that Charlotte's killer would be found and brought to justice, that they could never hurt another person again.

Crane's soft snoring interrupted her prayers and she decided she'd looked out the window enough tonight. She turned over so that her face was against Crane's chest.

He shifted onto his back and her body was halfway across his. She was still for nearly fifteen minutes before she dared move. She looked up at his face, peaceful and without stress during sleep. His face knew not the pain of suffering or heartbreak. Abbie realized she hoped he could always be this way.

But if the world taught her anything, it was that heartbreak and suffering were undeniable in this life. It happened, and there just wasn't much to be done for it.

Still, a hopeful thought echoed through Abbie's mind as she fell asleep: _Please, don't screw_ _this up for me._


	9. Dangerous Animals

**_"It's been long enough now so let's make a mess, lioness."-Dangerous Animals (AM)_ **

* * *

It was Thanksgiving. Abbie woke up to the sound of pots and pans banging around in her kitchen. Jenny was the only one with a key and the only one who would have commenced Thanksgiving dinner at nine in the morning.

After brushing her teeth and braiding her hair back into two braids, she figured it was time she head downstairs to see if Jenny needed any help. Knowing that food stains came with the territory, Abbie found an old long sleeved shirt from her time in Quantico and fleece pants. Once she felt the cold air creeping through her room, she decided her favorite fluffy socks couldn't hurt.

"Well, hello there, Sleeping Beauty." Jenny greeted her as she began seasoning a turkey. "Thought you'd never get up."

Abbie rolled her eyes and went to the fridge to look for food. Deciding not to dirty any dishes, she settled for two apples and a water bottle. "What time did you get here?"

"About half an hour ago. Thought I'd get started on dinner early."

"It's just us, Jenny. Why so much food?"

A sheepish look flashed across Jenny's face as she stopped her motions with the turkey. "It's not going to be just us, Abbie. I invited Frank and I thought maybe you could invite Dr. Crane."

Abbie fixed her with a look that Jenny always found eerily similar to their mother. "Seriously?"

"They're family, Abs."

"Crane isn't!"

"But he might be! Besides he lives across the street and you guys have been together almost four months now. What harm would it do?"

Unable to come up with any excuse as to why Jenny was wrong, she rolled her eyes and sighed. "Whatever, Jenny. But you're gonna be the one to go extend the invitation."

"He's your boyfriend." Jenny replied with a smug smile. "Now, do me a favor, dear sister of mine. I need you to make a store run."

"For?"

"Sweet potatoes, macaroni stuff, cranberry dressing things-"

"So everything except the turkey? Why didn't you do that before you got here?"

Jenny gave her sister a sheepish smile and shrugged. "We both know meat is the only thing I'm good at cooking. You've always been better at the other stuff. Don't worry, I'll help you."

Abbie shook her head and picked up her keys from the counter. "You're a mess, Jenny."

She was in the produce section when she looked up and saw a head of fiery red hair. She would know it anywhere. Katrina Crane. Her back was to Abbie and she was near the greens. Luckily, Abbie had gotten all she needed from the produce section and was ready to be on her way.

Unfortunately, just as Abbie was turning her basket, Katrina spotted her and walked toward her, a small smile on her face.

"Hi! I never got your name when...well, you know."

"Yeah, when I had to break up a fight between your side piece and your husband?" Abbie felt...angry. She cared about Crane a great deal and she knew the extent of his pain from what Katrina had done to him.

"That was embarrassing, I know."

"It was."

The conversation was extremely awkward. Abbie sighed and was making to turn around again when Katrina's voice stopped her.

"How is he?"

The audacity of the woman before her was astounding. Abbie's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "He's fine. Why does it matter to you all of a sudden?"

"I know what I did was wrong, but I'm happy now. I want him to know he can move on and do the same."

Abbie's eyebrows nearly disappeared into her hairline and she let out a bitter laugh. "You are...you really have a lot of nerve. You were together for 8 years and you cheated on him for most of that time with his best friend. What on earth makes you think he needs your blessing to move on?"

"I only meant that-"

"To answer your question, he is miles better without you around."

Abbie wasn't sure what came over her and as she walked away from a rather hurt looking Katrina, she felt unsettled. Why couldn't she just have walked away faster or ignored Katrina and pretended like she didn't know who she was?

She couldn't deny the anger she felt at Katrina speaking as if she still controlled Crane's life, as if Ichabod needed permission to be happy.

Abbie made quick work of the groceries and raced back home. She didn't feel like cooking, and told Jenny that she would be back in time for Thanksgiving dinner.

Crane was quite surprised to see Abbie on his doorstep. He'd assumed she would be with her sister all day. Still, he let her in, trying not to let the look on her face worry him.

"I ran into Katrina today." Abbie said, her voice flat. Crane gestured for her to sit next to him on the sectional. They sat close, but were not touching.

"Did something happen?" Crane asked as he looked at the expression on Abbie's face.

"She asked how you were and said you could move on and be happy now the way she has." There was a bitter smirk on her face that was made all the more unsettling by the sheer annoyance in Abbie's eyes.

A curious feeling settled within Crane. He felt annoyed on Abbie's behalf. He felt a little insulted that Katrina thought she could command him to be happy after how she'd treated him. He looked at Abbie carefully, seeing her quite conflicted.

"This upset you." It was a statement and not at all a question. He reached over to hold her hand firmly.

"Yes," Abbie said simply. "It shouldn't but...when people do that kind of damage and tell you when they think you can move on...it's almost like they believe they can still control you."

He thought about what she said and figured she must have been speaking from personal experience. He wouldn't push her until she felt like talking.

"I assure you, Abbie, she cannot control me. Not anymore. I cannot deny that some portion of my heart will house her but the rest...well, the rest is filling up for someone else." He gave her a sincere look as he took her other hand.

She gave him a small smile and leveled him with a serious look. "I don't like her, Crane. She's shady."

"We can agree on that point. However, due to the fact that it is Thanksgiving and you have narrowly avoided assisting your sister with dinner preparations, I don't want to talk about Katrina anymore."

He got up and came back with popcorn and water. Abbie took the bowl from him and took a handful, feeling absolutely ravenous. "We watching a movie?"

"A television show."

"I thought you don't watch tv that often."

"Well, I have Netflix now and I have recently become addicted to a show about a man who has to survive the zombie apocalypse. It is quite riveting."

Abbie laughed and him and resolved to eat the popcorn and enjoy being with Crane even if she wasn't a huge fan of zombie shows.

When the popcorn was gone, she decided to lay down in Crane's lap and stretch her legs out across the sofa. She didn't protest when he started running his hands through her hair with his left hand and rubbed her side with his right. She tried not to shiver too much and attributed whatever shivering was occurring to just being cold.

She fell asleep and again and when she woke up Crane was telling her that they needed to get back to her place for dinner with her sister. Abbie reluctantly pulled herself away from Crane and went to splash cold water on her face in the bathroom. She didn't want to look like a total troll at dinner.

As it happened, Jenny managed to pull off the rest of dinner with Frank's help and Google. Dinner turned out to be just enough food for the four of them with the possibility of leftovers.

"You're almost done with your master's, Jenny. You excited?" Frank asked as he cut the turkey into thin slices.

"Sort of. I don't know how Dr. Wilcox passing will affect my grades. So far the president of the university and the head of the department is letting us all be exempt from the final for this semester so that's one less thing for me to worry about." Jenny shrugged before shoveling a forkful of cranberry dressing into her mouth.

"And you still have your final paper for my class." Crane added with a wry smile.

Jenny rolled her eyes and sighed. "You just had to date one of my professors, huh?"

Abbie shrugged and ate in contented silence. She felt Crane's hand on her thigh and smiled into her plate. It felt comforting to know he was right there with her. Moments like these were what she loved. She and Jenny only had each other and their holidays tended to be quite boring and lonely. But it did Abbie's heart good to be with people she loved.

Loved?

Abbie stared at Crane as he engaged in some story about a friend from college that had Frank and Jenny in stitches from laughing so hard.

She watched his eyes as he talked, watched as they sparkled and the corners of them crinkled when he was smiling genuinely. She watched his hands as he gestured wildly and leaned back slightly in his chair. Though his hair was pushed back, parts of it kept falling into his face, though he seemed to pay no attention to it. She smiled as a warm feeling spread through her chest. She could stare at him for hours if it meant seeing him happy.

Just then, Abbie felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. She excused herself , saying she needed to go to the restroom.

Closing the door behind her, she looked down at her phone and frowned when she saw a text message from an unknown number. She opened the message and felt her insides turn to cement when she saw the picture it contained.

It was a picture of her at the crime scene after the fire and Charlotte's death when she was talking to Frank about what happened. The message beneath the picture read:

DID YOU REALLY BELIEVE I WOULD NEVER FIND YOU?

She fumbled with the phone just then, trying (and failing) to catch it as it dropped to the floor with a loud thud. Abbie heard the conversation at the table stop momentarily.

"You alright in there, Abbie?" Jenny called from outside.

She couldn't speak. Her mouth had gone dry and her mind blank. She slid down the wall and stared at the picture, one hand covering her mouth. Whoever this person was had some connection to Charlotte's death and Abbie's past. But as a police officer and FBI agent she'd made so many enemies that she didn't know who would have sent her such a thing.

"Abbie, you okay?" Jenny was right outside the door now and when Abbie didn't respond she opened the door and took in a quick breath upon seeing her sister. "Abbie, what happened? What's wrong?"

"Frank." Abbie said shortly as she tried to chase the feelings of uneasiness and fear from her. It could have just been someone she'd locked up over the years, but something told her it was bigger than that.

Frank appeared next to Jenny a few moments later with Crane not far behind. "What is it, Mills? You look like you've seen a ghost."

She wordlessly handed him the phone and Jenny and Crane peered at it as he did. They had varying reactions. Jenny was shocked. Crane was a cross between angry and nervous. Frank had his cop face on. Abbie knew that expression well.

"This is going to sound stupid but do you have any idea who this number belongs to?" Frank asked, his voice betraying no emotion.

Abbie shook her head. "It says 'unknown'. We may not even be able to track it back."

"We need to try. This person could be connected to Charlotte's death."

"Agreed. I'll head to the station and see if someone from I.T. can rush this in for tomorrow. Call me if anything else happens." Frank gave her a reassuring look before Jenny announced that she would walk him out.

Crane looked down at Abbie and helped her up. They walked to the living room with no words passing between them. Abbie was lost in her thoughts, trying not to be too worried. But it wasn't working. She'd come to Sleepy Hollow to feel safe again, and now she wasn't so sure anymore.

Even when Crane kissed her forehead and told her that the police would handle everything, it did nothing to change the fact that Abbie didn't believe him.

The person who sent the message could very well have been the person who killed Charlotte and would not take much issue with killing her too.


	10. My Propeller

_**Coax me out, my love.-AM (My Propeller)** _

* * *

Though she put on a brave face, Abbie could not deny that she was scared. She tried to tell herself not to worry. Even Crane told her that the Sleepy Hollow PD had everything under control. But Abbie could not shake the feeling that there was something about this case that she wasn't seeing.

"Frank, were you able to track back the number?" Abbie asked, trying not to let anxiety grip her words.

"No. But I didn't expect we would be able to. If this mystery guy sent you this picture, it means he may have some connection not only to Charlotte but to you. I'm thinking we've gotta work the Charlotte case and then we can figure out who this person is." Frank replied as they walked through the hall to his office.

Abbie had decided to take off work for a few days to get her head straight. If there was something to be done with this case, it needed to be done before she returned to work.

Frank's office was cold and the air smelled of bad coffee and stale potato chips. He settled in behind his desk and Abbie made herself comfortable in the chair in front of it. He reached over the desk to hand her the case file.

"I found out from one of her colleagues that Charlotte Wilcox had just come back from a dig in Mexico with an artifact she found there. She was considering selling it." Frank explained as he watched Abbie go through the file.

"That doesn't make any sense. Why would she sell it? From what the file says, she was trying to start her own collection." Abbie felt confused but again could not shake the feeling that she was missing something quite obvious.

"Mr. Wilcox informed me that they had run into a bit of financial trouble. He got laid off so it was only Charlotte working but it wasn't always enough."

"So, she thought that selling some of her artifacts would help her family. But what did she find in Mexico that made her reluctant?" Abbie was slowly beginning to put a few pieces together in her head. She felt like she was on the edge of something.

Frank picked up a picture from his desk and handed to her. "Professor Harding said Charlotte sent her an email stating that she'd come across an obsidian dagger in Mexico that dated back to the Late Classic Period. It's a Mayan relic, possibly worth millions since Charlotte said it was in perfect condition."

"But she was reluctant to sell it because it was in perfect condition."

"And according to Harding, Charlotte backed out of the deal with the mystery buyer she found. Decided maybe she should keep the knife or give it to the Mexican government."

Abbie took a deep breath and looked up at Frank. "So, maybe whoever killed her wanted the dagger, wanted revenge for her backing out. Kill Charlotte, take the dagger, and he gets to keep his money."

Frank nodded and sat back in his chair. "But now we've got to figure out who Charlotte was planning to sell to."

A thoughtful look came across Abbie's face as she remembered the case she and Danny worked on during her time at the FBI. Realization dawned on her and she dropped the file in shock. "Shit," she breathed out as her eyes went wide. "I'm an idiot."

Frank gave her a curious look that grew into worry when he noticed she dropped the files. "Mills, what is it?"

"Henry Parrish. It's gotta be him. He's the connection between me and Charlotte. He's the one who sent the note." Her left leg was shaking so hard she couldn't stop it if she tried. She felt her hands grow damp and her heartbeat speed up.

"Henry Parrish? As in FBI-most-wanted Henry Parrish? Why would he be in Sleepy Hollow?" Frank Irving hadn't bothered to access Abbie's file to find out what led her back to Sleepy Hollow. In all honesty, he hadn't really felt like it was his business. But now he was intrigued. "This got anything to do with why you left the FBI?"

Abbie nodded wordlessly and fell back into the chair, deflated, before deciding that it was time Frank knew about the operation with Danny that had gone so wrong. When she finished, Frank looked quite sad for her. He knew better than to voice that sadness. While he certainly considered Abbie a friend, he knew he needed to be the strong one for her as he always had been.

"I think he was here for the sale but then Charlotte backed out and he sent someone after her." Abbie finished.

"Why do that instead of doing it himself?"

Abbie sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "As much as he loves his Horsemen, they're disposable to him. He never gets his hands dirty. The FBI never got anything solid on him, hence why Danny and I had to go undercover in the first place. That went wrong and Parrish got away. I think he found out I was here and is trying to tie up a loose end."

"He's going to try to kill you, Mills."

"I know."

Things were silent between them for a time. Abbie tried to escape the feeling that the air was crushing her and took a deep breath before putting her head in her hands.

"I'll take you home, Mills." Frank said eventually.

When Abbie got home, Frank went through the house to make sure everything was alright and that there was no one lying in wait to kill Abbie. He told her he would try to get a friend of his from the FBI to keep watch over her for the foreseeable future and left to return to work.

Abbie felt like an idiot. How had she not realized sooner that it was Henry Parrish who was behind Charlotte's death? She knew quite certainly that while he may have given the order, they needed to figure out who the person in the tapes was, the person who'd been seen running from the scene of Charlotte's murder.

Now, Abbie knew that whoever it was was one of Henry's Horsemen. The only issue was to find out which one it was. Abbie couldn't remember any of them by name, and some of them made it a point to never face her during their dealings. Frustrated, she pulled out her laptop just as there was a knock on the door.

Abbie felt beyond relieved to see Crane there. His eyes lit up and he stepped inside, closing the door behind him. He could tell immediately that Abbie's mood was off somehow. They sat down on the sofa and when Abbie finally had her laptop situated, Crane pulled her close into him, kissing her forehead as he saw her pull up the security footage from Charlotte's murder.

With the mysterious message she'd received, he knew she was on edge already. But today seemed different, worse. He didn't pay attention to the computer but instead focused on Abbie.

Her eyebrows were furrowed together. Her teeth tugged on her bottom lip, making it appear as if she was nearly chewing it. Her eyes were wide and nervous, flitting back and forth across the screen as she replayed the footage again and again. Her legs was twitching up and down at furious speeds and her left hand covered some of her face as she focused intently on the footage.

Crane reached out and slowly closed the laptop before moving it to the coffee table. Abbie gave him a confused look. "What did you do that for?"

He turned to her, taking her tiny hands in his and leveled her with an intense stare. "Something is troubling you more than usual, Lieutenant. What is it?"

She pulled her hands from his own and looked off into a space behind him. She stayed quiet for a while as her mind drifted elsewhere. What seemed like years later, she finally spoke. "The person behind Charlotte's death definitely is connected to me, to the case that made me leave the FBI. Henry Parrish. He gave the order that Charlotte be killed, and he wants me dead next." Her voice was devoid of any emotion and there was an absent look in her eyes.

Meanwhile, Crane was trying to figure out why the name sounded familiar to him. He knew he'd heard it before, but for the life of him could not figure out how. He frowned as he backtracked through his eidetic memory and his head cocked off to the side like a dog.

The thought came to him quite quickly and he had to blink hard as a headache hit him hard. "Dear God." He breathed out, drawing Abbie's attention back to him.

"What is it?"

"Henry Parrish. I knew I'd heard that name before. Katrina mentioned him some time ago. She was upset that he would not let her sell his jewelry in her shop." Crane explained quickly.

Abbie nodded slowly. "Of course he wouldn't. He deals in stolen antiques. He would want to keep his valuable things closest to him. But the question is how did Katrina even find him to approach him in the first place?"

Crane frowned and gave Abbie a skeptical look. "If you're saying that Katrina may have colluded with this...this monster-"

"That's exactly what I'm saying, Crane. Maybe her shop isn't pulling any business in so she approaches him through...someone…to try to get in extra money." Abbie felt like she was missing the final piece of the puzzle. She felt like Charlotte's killer was in plain sight.

"Katrina is many things but a thief and a liar she is not." He replied indignantly.

Abbie raised her eyebrows high and a small smirk crossed her face. "You sure about that last one?"

Crane rolled his eyes and shook his head. "You know what I meant."

"Yeah, right. Why is it so hard for you to believe a woman who cheated on you for possibly as long the two of you were together would also be a thief and a possible criminal?" Abbie asked, her face indicating she was awaiting an explanation.

Crane suddenly felt quite agitated. "We were together for nearly a decade. You would seriously endeavor to think you know her better than I do on matters such as this?"

"Oh, you know her so well? Really?" Abbie's voice went up an octave and she stood from the sofa so that she was directly in front of him and close enough that their knees were touching.

"I do."

"Funny. It seems those words meant a little more to you than to her. But I guess that doesn't matter because you just know her so fucking well."

She regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth, but even the hurt in Crane's eyes did not stop her tirade.

"That's quite funny. I tell you that she may be connected to a known thief and murderer, that that very same thief and murderer wants me dead and is stalking me but the only thing you seem to be able to do is defend her?" She was yelling now. A rage like none other was alight in her eyes. He could see her face growing somewhat redder the more she yelled and his face went slack.

"Abigail, I-"

"I thought you cared about me a little more than that, Crane. But as long as I'm with you it is always going to be about her, no matter what she does to ruin your life or anyone else's. For some reason, you will always defend her, even when there are red flags all over the goddamn place!" Tears stung her eyes and she wiped them away furiously as she fled upstairs to her room, leaving Crane in shock on the sofa.

He knew she was right. Still, her words had not hurt any less. He stared at the floor, determined to burn a hole through it if possible. His heart felt like it was straining to get out of his chest, and not in the good way. Crane put a hand to his forehead as he felt a headache building.

He'd told Abbie that Katrina no longer controlled him, but he suddenly found that to be untrue. He certainly made a mistake in defending Katrina, especially since Abbie's life was in real danger. He felt horrid.

But he refused to leave. He would give Abbie her space for the time being and let her choose when she wanted to talk to him again, but he would stay there every night to insure her safety.

After finding a blanket, Crane made himself at home on the sofa and fell off into a fitful sleep.

Abbie was, without a doubt, angry with Crane. They'd been dating almost six months now and she definitely had serious feelings for him. She couldn't deny that she certainly felt hurt that he hadn't even seemed worried about her safety once he mentioned Katrina.

She did feel bad about saying what she did about Katrina's infidelity, but she knew she hadn't been wrong, and Crane knew it too.

Abbie tossed and turned for a few hours before deciding maybe the best thing to do was to take a scalding hot shower. Thirty minutes later, she knew she was right.

Her body was still warm, though the coconut scent of her soap had calmed her somewhat. She braided her hair back into two sections and searched high and low for the large t-shirt she'd stolen from Crane a few weeks ago.

When she got downstairs, the entire house was dark, save for a small fire in the fireplace she knew Crane must have lit. She hadn't heard the door open so she knew he had not left. She found him asleep on the sofa, a somewhat stressed look on his face. One arm was draped across his chest and the other firmly at his side.

She sighed and moved to straddle his waist, pushing down firmly as she noticed him waking up. Her hands pressed down on his chest as his eyes fluttered open.

Surprise and confusion flew through him as he sat up slightly. "Abbie, what-"

"I shouldn't have brought up what Katrina did to you. That was...low." She meant it. While part of her still felt hurt about his reaction, she couldn't blame him.

He nodded slowly and closed his eyes, trying to process her words. His head swam with the day's previous events and he took a deep breath. "All is forgiven, Lieutenant, though I feel you are owed an apology as well. I am with you now. I should never have made you feel anything less than a priority to me."

She nodded and gave him a small smile before moving to lay on top of him. Her head rested against his chest and she was calmed momentarily by the sound of his heart beating steadily in his chest.

"He wants to kill me, Crane. He to make sure I die this time." She spoke into the ever dimming living room.

She then felt Crane's arms tighten around her protectively and his lips against her forehead. She snuggled deeper into him as she felt him pull the blanket over them both.

"Abigail, I assure you he will need to navigate hell and high water to get to you, and believe me when I say that I am the hell and the high water."


	11. Crying Lightning

_**Your pastimes consisted of the strange and twisted and deranged and I hate that little game you had called crying lightning. -Crying Lightning (AM)** _

* * *

The next day, Crane woke up to a quiet house. It was cloudy outside, meaning it was much darker inside. He stood from the surprisingly comfortable sofa and stretched, satisfaction spreading through him as his bones popped.

Abbie had been with him when he fell asleep again, but now it seemed she was nowhere to be found. He went up to her room and did not find her there. He remembered that she had a third floor just as he did and ventured up to it.

She was sitting on a large bay window, staring out at the cloudy morning sky and the city of Sleepy Hollow beneath it. If she heard him come in, she didn't acknowledge him.

"Good morning, Abbie." he spoke, feeling every bit as if he was in trouble for something.

She barely turned to glance at him, her attention elsewhere. "Did you mean what you said last night? About the hell and the high water?"

He was by her side in two strides, sitting close enough to her he could practically feel the heat from her body. "With every part of me."

She shrugged and sighed. "We've been together six months, Crane. You were with Katrina for eight years. I need to know that if it comes down to it, you will choose me. I refuse to be anyone's second choice, let alone yours."

Despite how dejected she looked, her voice portrayed something different. Her voice was strong and steady, allowing no room for argument. "Was I wrong in assuming we moved past this last night?"

"Yes," she replied near immediately. "There is a murderous thief out there who killed my partner and wants to kill me and your ex-wife could be connected to him. So long as he is out there, there is no moving past this."

"Lieutenant, I-"

"Crane," she warned, raising a finger toward him. "I don't have any room for doubt. You either choose me or you choose her. There will be no in-between. If you won't be on my side, I need to know now."

Her words sunk into him with all the weight of several cement blocks. He looked out the window, shame creeping through him as he considered how Abbie must feel.

How must it feel to care deeply about someone and feel second best? How must it feel to see him defending the person who tore him apart? How must it feel to have your life endangered and feel that the one who was supposed to care the most didn't?

Ichabod Crane was ashamed.

In that moment, as he considered Abbie, he knew she was right. There was no in-between. Katrina was his past. Even if he did choose her over Abbie, there would be no salvaging their relationship. She'd betrayed him, lied to him, broken his trust and his heart. He could not love a person like that.

He could, however, love the woman who had been there for him to stop him from killing his ex-best friend. He could love the woman who made his spirit soar from her very presence. He could love the woman who stood up for him in the presence of his ex-wife. He could love the woman who pushed him and his students out to safety, risking her life in the process. He could love a woman like that. A woman like Abbie.

He would love Abbie.

"There is no choice." Crane answered firmly.

Abbie looked over at him and he could see her bracing herself in anticipation of him hurting her. He felt part of his own heart break.

"There is no choice, Abbie, because the clear answer is you. I love you. I trust you. In that, there can be no one else. There will be no one else."

He felt himself shaking slightly, unable to believe that he meant the words he said. He almost felt dizzy at the way his heart seemed to be somersaulting in his chest. He'd long since forgotten what love felt like.

She smiled a watery smile and he felt puzzled at the tears in her eyes. Abbie snaked her hand through his and held it tightly before letting out a shaky breath. "You better not be lying to me, Crane."

He pulled her to him and held her tightly. "Never. I meant every word. If I have to say it every day to make you certain of it, then so be it."

They were quiet for a while and Abbie sighed, feeling a small weight lift off her shoulders. She gotten up a few hours before Crane and her mind could not help wandering to the night before when Crane had so ardently defended Katrina.

She'd been temporarily placated with Crane's apology, but she realized upon waking she needed something much more concrete than that. She needed a promise, his word.

"I'm not her, Crane," she breathed out into the silence. "If you don't feel happy anymore, tell me. I won't keep you from being happy."

He pulled her away from him and got down to his knees, taking her hands in his own. "I have not provided you with reasons to trust me, Abbie. After last night, it is possible that I may even be undeserving of it. But I know you are not Katrina. I am thankful for that fact."

Her eyes showed skepticism plain as day. Her eyes welled again and she closed her mouth tightly, swallowing hard in an effort to keep tears from falling.

"In the short time we have known one another you have done so much for me. I spent eight years with Katrina. Nearly a decade and...for most of it, I was miserable. I wanted to get away from her. My wish was granted and I am free now to give the love in my heart to one deserving of it: you."

She nodded and he pulled her to him so that his head was resting on her stomach. They stayed that way for quite sometime until Abbie decided she wanted to go for a run to clear her head. Crane decided it would be a good time to catch up on some grading.

Fifteen minutes later, Abbie was jogging the trail that went around she and Crane's neighborhood. The air was cold and crisp and the sky an ominous gray. She could feel the beginnings of rain coming down, but it wasn't enough that she felt the need to stop.

She was in the zone, her mind mostly clear as she considered what Crane told her. He'd told her he loved her, that picking Katrina over her would not ever happen. Some part of her doubted him, but she knew that Crane was a man of his word and he probably meant what he promised her.

She thought about what Crane's promise meant. Things were slow and easy between them but now that she knew he loved her what would be next? Should they move in together? Was sex an option now? She shook her head as her thoughts spiderwebbed in different directions. Things didn't need to be anymore complicated between them.

Maybe she needed space from all things Crane for the moment. She didn't want to be one of those people who got consumed by their relationships. No, with Henry Parrish and his Horsemen out there, she needed to focus on work.

Tarrytown State University had been extremely quiet since Charlotte's murder. Abbie had increased security patrols around the campus just in case. Her officers didn't seem to mind. It was the most exciting Tarrytown State had ever been.

Abbie made a mental note to call Frank when she had the chance so that she could tell him her theory of Katrina's involvement with Parrish. Maybe if they could prove she was involved she could lead them to him.

It started raining a little harder then and Abbie decided to call it a day and head back home. She'd turned onto her block when she noticed from a distance that something was wrong with her car.

The windows were broken and her windshield was spiderwebbed and dented in. Her seats were torn and her headlights were busted. On the hood of the car a message had been keyed in:

STAY AWAY FROM PARRISH OR YOU WILL DIE

"Shit." she breathed out as her hand covered her mouth. She looked around and saw a masked man running from behind one of the trees at the end of the block. She raced after him, noticing he was limping. It was the man who killed Charlotte. She was sure of it.

The rain was coming down harder now making it much more difficult to see. Still, she closed in on him, jumping on his back and taking him to the ground in the middle of the street. She yanked his arms behind his back and dig her kneeled onto them so he would be unable to move.

"Who the hell are you?!" she yelled over the pouring rain as she grabbed at his mask.

He groaned and struggled as she tried. "You will never know." His voice was cold and...and British. She felt her blood run cold as a million thoughts hit her at once.

Sleepy Hollow was not a big town. There were only two British people Abbie knew of. One of them was Crane, which meant the other had to be…

"Abraham?" Abbie breathed out as she locked her knees around his back. "Holy shit." She took her phone out and speed dialed Frank.

"I'm a block over. I'll be to you in a few seconds."

She held on to Abraham as tight as possible with an arm digging into his neck. With his injured leg there wasn't much he could do to get away.

She heard sirens and Frank and another police car pulled up a few seconds later. Abbie got off Abraham and went to wait in her house while Frank arrested him.

Her hands were shaking and she could hear blood rushing through her ears. It all made sense now. Abraham was the one who killed Charlotte. He was working for Henry Parrish. He was with Katrina which meant he was her in for Parrish.

She felt nauseous.

"Lieutenant, are you alright? I saw police cars and the Captain outside. Your car was vandalized. What happened?" Crane had come inside, though the front door was still wide open.

She looked up at him from her place on the sofa, swallowing the angry tears that threatened to fall from her face. Her jaw clenched and she tried to talk without exploding.

"Abraham. He is the one who killed Charlotte. He's working for Henry Parrish." Her voice was cold and measured. She spoke slower than she normally did and it dawned on Crane that she was enraged. And so was he.

"I will kill him."

"No. Parrish will if he thinks he's been compromised."

They were silent for a while. Crane sat next to her and held her hand tightly as she took deep breaths to take her down from her anger.

"You were right. If Abraham is involved with Parrish I would be remiss in thinking Katrina is not. The extent of her involvement surely remains unclear, but if we can make Abraham believe she is in danger...perhaps he would give up more of Parrish's secrets." Crane stated after a while.

Frank came in just then looking equal parts mad and satisfied. "Bastard's going into custody. He's a match for the surveillance tape. We're going to get him for vandalism and murder. He can't hurt you anymore, Mills."

His words seemed to go in one ear and out of the other. "Parrish and Katrina can. We need all three of them gone. The best way to do that is to use Abraham. We can convince Katrina we know she's in on it. We convince her that Parrish will try to kill Abraham and we get her to turn on him. Maybe she gives him up, maybe she kills him. I don't much care at this point."

Abbie got up and went upstairs, startling both Frank and Crane when she slammed her door. They looked at one another, Frank knowing what angry Abbie looked like. "I'm gonna head out. Tell her her car is being impounded to evidence and I'll have a rental here tomorrow morning."

"Of course."

The house was mostly quiet again now that Frank and the police were gone. The rain had gotten progressively worse and a snap of lightning made Crane rush upstairs to check on Abbie.

She was in her closet, tossing clothes into a suitcase. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"What on earth are you doing?"

"I'm going to Jenny's for a bit."

"Why?"

She stopped and stepped over the suitcase to get to him. "Clearly, I'm not fucking safe here, Crane. If Abraham knew where I lived, Parrish does too. He ruined my car. Do you believe me now? Do you see now why I had to ask you to make a choice?" Her voice was raising and he could see the beginnings of tears in her eyes.

"I never doubted you, Abbie." He took her hands into his own and held them tightly. "If anything, this has merely added more cement to my resolve. The portion of my life that they were involved in is over. I meant what I said. They will not hurt you. I swore to protect you, Abbie, and I meant it."

She looked down as the tears finally fell from her eyes. "I refuse to let him...he won't do to you what he did to Danny. I can't let him hurt you like he hurt Danny."

She hugged him tightly the , afraid that if he let go then he would be lost to her and she just didn't know if she could handle that. She loved him. Life was giving her a second chance and she would not see it taken away again.


	12. I Wanna Be Yours

_**Secrets I have held in my heart are harder to hide than I thought. Maybe I just wanna be yours. -I Wanna Be Yours (AM)** _

* * *

When she finally pulled away, she took his hand and pulled him toward the bathroom with her. She ran the shower as hot as she could stand and turned to face Crane who was staring at her with a rather dumbfounded expression on his face.

"Abbie, what are you doing?"

She shook her head and sighed. "Can we not talk for a while? I kinda wanna do something else." Her dark brown eyes bore deep into his oceanic ones and he saw desire reflected in them.

"I seem to recall you stating you wished to move slowly. Does that not remain the case?" Crane asked as he regarded her carefully. She'd stripped down to bra and underwear by this point and he was trying desperately not to look down.

She pulled him into her and he tried to ignore the fact that their bodies molded together as if made for one another. "You're asking a lot of questions, Crane. I' m tired of talking right now. I want this if you do." She removed the last vestiges of clothing and stepped into the large shower.

Crane stayed outside, feeling cement butterflies in his stomach. Of course, he wanted to be with Abbie this way, but he couldn't even remember how long it had been since he'd been with anyone, Katrina included.

He wordlessly repeated Abbie's actions and joined her. Her back was to him and she was washing her hair. If she heard him, she didn't pay him much attention.

He felt his throat close and his mouth go dry as he tried but failed to speak coherently in her presence. His eyes travelled down her body and he swallowed hard as he thought of what it would be like to truly be with her.

"I...I do not wish to ruin this, Abbie." Crane's voice came out slightly hoarse and he heard her giggle in response before she turned around to face him.

She tilted her head back, rinsing shampoo from her hair as she smiled at him. "It isn't exactly a hard thing to mess up, Crane. If you aren't ready, it's fine. We can do it some other time." Abbie didn't sound disappointed, and perhaps that propelled Crane to action.

"I…well, I do not wish to disappoint you." He shifted from standing on one foot to the other as he said this.

She wrung out her hair and put conditioner in it before rinsing her hands off and coming over to him. Abbie pushed him back until the shower bench met his knees and forced him to sit.

She straddled him and placed a kiss on his forehead as she snaked her arms around him. "You won't, Crane."

Her lips travelled to his slowly, almost hesitantly. When they finally met, she heard him groan in pleasure. It wasn't anything close to awkward or disappointing. It was perfect. He was perfect.

Crane pulled her as close to him as he could without absorbing her and held on for dear life. He pulled away for a moment to look at her, really look at her, trying to push aside the fact that her pupils were just as blown as his were.

"Are you certain? We can stop now if that is what you wish." His hands had travelled to cradle her face. He felt her lean into his touch as she smiled.

"I'm certain."

Abbie felt him pull her toward him and she met him halfway as she ground against him. She couldn't remember the last time she felt so excited to be with someone.

The ordeal with Abraham only cemented what she felt for Crane; that, and the fact that he had not changed his choice. He still wanted her, he still loved her, and he still wanted to be with her. The irony did not escape her that just hours ago she'd been wondering if Crane's declaration of love meant that they should be fucking. It hadn't been a want that came over her in the room, it was need. She needed him. The thought was both terrifying and exhilarating.

She tilted her head back as she felt his lips ghost across her skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. She felt him lift her slightly and she was hovering momentarily before he slowly pulled her down on top of him. She hissed as he filled her and sighed when she was all the way down again. He began to move and she steadied him, pushing her hand against his chest.

"Is something wrong?" He asked, concern immediately flooding his face.

Abbie sighed in content and smiled lazily. "No, you're fine. Just...stay still for a second, Crane. I want to enjoy this."

She buried her face in his neck and inhaled, breathing in his scent before exhaling shakily. She willed away the sounds of the shower and allowed herself to pull back for a moment, to feel all of what it meant to be loved completely, to be well and truly whole.

Crane did something similar. He ran his hands up and down her spine, across skin so soft it felt unreal. He breathed in the scent of coconuts and lavender and had to remind himself that she was real, that what they had was real. For the first time in a long time, he felt safe. He felt loved. He felt cared for.

Abbie was not a woman of many words. He knew that. He knew that she had walls so high they could reach the moon. He knew that, for him, she was willing to allow him passage into her heart. He promised himself then, as he filled her from the inside and as he felt her fill his heart to the point of overflowing, that he would not ruin this. He knew he wanted her at his side for as long as she would allow.

He exhaled slowly and began to move within her. She let out a low moan as she moved within him, asking after a while if there was anyway he could go faster. He listened and did as she asked, letting out a breathy laugh when he felt her trying to climb him as the two of them got close.

"You're laughing, Crane, and you shouldn't be. What you're doing to me...it should be criminal." She replied, half laughing and half moaning.

"Is it?" He asked, his voice deep and low, vibrating in his chest against hers.

He was up in a dizzyingly fluid motion and suddenly Abbie's back was against the wall, the shower head directly over her. He moved quickly and Abbie shouted as she held on to him, facing up toward the shower head.

They both got over the edge quickly, shouting each other's names and those of deities they didn't much believe in.

Abbie rolled off of him, standing on shaky legs as she rinsed the remnants of conditioner from her head. Her plans for braiding her hair were dashed. All she wanted was her bed and Crane in it. He turned off the shower and got them both towels.

Ten minutes later, they were in her bed. She lay with her head across his chest and he held her as close as he could without overheating her. Sleep was coming for them both and the rainy weather was not making it much better.

"Do you still believe me to be a criminal?" Crane asked with a content smile on his face.

She laughed in response and closed her eyes as she sighed. "Oh, yeah. You should be arrested."

"Only if you're doing the arresting."

She gave him an amused look and laughed again as she turned onto her side to face him. He draped his arm across her waist and pulled her toward him slightly, his hand resting on her lower back.

"You were wonderful, Crane. Not even close to a disappointment." Abbie held his eyes in her own, and Crane saw truth within them. He let out a sigh of relief he hadn't known he was holding in.

"Will this change things between us? Have we moved forward too quickly?"

He was backtracking in his head, kicking himself at the possibility that their relationship may have possibly been ruined at the hand of their recent encounter.

She rolled over onto her back and reached out to grab his hand. "It's funny. I know we haven't known each other long, but it feels like it's been years, you know? When I left the FBI it was because I didn't feel adequate. I mean, how could I be a good agent when I let my partner get killed right in front of me? I came back here because it was safe, because I could just lay low and be a campus cop and pretend that part of my life was behind me."

Crane was silent as he watched and listened to her.

"Danny had asked me, before he died, if I'd wanted to marry him. I told him no. I just didn't feel ready for that kind of commitment. That, and I couldn't even believe he would want to be with me for the rest of his life. I was afraid to take a chance. Right now, I can say I'm glad I didn't because I may not have met you. But I want you to know, Crane, that I'm not afraid anymore. I can't be. Everything could be gone so easily and I...I don't want to live with any regrets. So, to answer your question, this won't change things between us if you still love me as much as you did before. I'm happy we did it." She brought his hand up to her lips and placed a soft kiss against his knuckles.

Crane felt his heart swell at her words and he forced down the lump in his throat. It would not due to have her see him as some simpering old fool. He would tell her one day how thankful he was for her love and for her choice to love him.

He saw her yawn and kissed her forehead. "Perhaps we should sleep now, Abbie."

She gave him a sleepy smile and moved her head against his shoulders. "You're right. I would like that very much."


	13. The Jeweller's Hands

**_You're a sinking stone cause you know what its like to hold the jeweller's hands.-The Jeweller's Hands (AM)_ **

* * *

When Crane woke up, the house was engulfed in darkness and a glance at the clock told him it was nearly midnight. He and Abbie had slept the day away. She, of course, was still asleep, her small form on top of him.

He looked down at her and the peace across her face, peace he had yet to see upon it. It warmed his heart that he had been able to help her forget about Parrish and Abraham and Katrina. Though he was grateful for that, he could not deny the soul-eating guilt he felt within him.

From what Abbie told him, she'd gone through more than her share of pain and heartbreak before she ever knew Crane. He could not help wondering how different her life would be if he never met her.

To be sure, his soul had never been more free than it was with Abbie. He felt himself becoming a better version of himself. He could feel the change within. He hoped Abbie felt the same way for him.

She stirred slightly and her eyes cracked open blearily. "You're awake?" Her voice was raspy and thick with sleep. She was still within the transitory stage of being awake and asleep.

"Yes, my love." he replied softly as he kissed her forehead. "I did not intend to wake you."

He felt her move off of him and sit up, a long sigh escaping her as she rubbed her eyes. "Something is bothering you, Crane." She squinted at him, all the while trying to convince herself to stay awake.

Crane took a deep breath as he looked down at his hands tracing patterns along the blanket. "I cannot help but wonder if...all of this is my fault. I have brought upon you nothing but trouble, Lieutenant." His voice was uncharacteristically low and shy, as if he were afraid to even speak the words aloud.

Abbie closed her eyes tightly and opened them again in an effort to wake herself up a bit more. When she focused her eyes on Crane's, he knew she was still a bit tired. Still, she moved him so that he was lying on his right side facing the window and she spooned him from behind, her small arms around his waist as best she could manage.

"Parrish was an issue before I ever met you, Crane. I don't see you as a curse if that's what you're thinking. And you'd better not be thinking that." She said the last bit with stern warning in her voice, a small smile gracing her face as she felt the rumble of laughter in his chest. "No, you've made me feel more alive than ever, current circumstances notwithstanding. I don't feel like I'm just existing anymore, you know?"

She felt him put his hand on top of hers which was currently residing over his lower stomach. "The feeling is mutual, I assure you."

"You aren't a curse to me, Ichabod Crane. If I didn't want you in my life, you wouldn't be."

She felt rather than heard him sigh and she knew what that sigh was. It was self-blaming and a hint of self-loathing. She knew it all too well. "You say that, but how can you ignore that Abraham, the man who has attempted to kill you and has terrorized you, was my best friend? How can you ignore that my ex-wife may be involved with Parrish somehow? I am the common denominator, Miss Mills. Only me."

Abbie pushed herself up so that she was hovering over him, her face looking down on his. "They are a part of you, Crane. I know you're nothing like them, not even close. Just because they were a huge part of your life doesn't mean you're guilty by association. I got to know you for myself and that's all I care about."

He was silent as he looked away from here and to a spot outside the window. The sky was black and no stars were present, a sign of impending rain, no doubt. He thought about his life before Abbie, thought of when everything in his life has still been right side up. He thought of a time when he had not resented Katrina, when Abraham had still been his best friend, when self-doubt hadn't consumed his being in its entirety.

He felt Abbie's hands guide his face so his eyes met hers again. A small, hopeful smile was on her face. "Crane. I'm still with you. You know that, right?"

He nodded solemnly and she pulled him into a tight hug before falling asleep again. Still, it was he who was unable to regain any chance of sleep. His mind...his very spirit was restless. He could not relax until the threat of Henry Parrish had passed.

When he was certain that Abbie had fallen into a deep sleep, he extricated himself from her hold and crept downstairs to the kitchen. He needed tea, and possibly with something stronger mixed in. He had an idea and he was not entirely sure it would even work. Still, he had to try. Abbie's safety depended on it.

Crane moved to the living room and took out his cell phone, scrolling through his contacts until he came to Frank Irving. He knew the Captain would still be awake and most likely at the police station.

The phone rang three times before he answered. "Yeah?"

"Captain Irving. I apologize for the late hour but I needed to speak with you about the Parrish case. I have an idea as to how we could bring about the end of it."

He heard Frank sigh from the other end. "Crane, you shouldn't be up this late."

"I am aware. But considering the safety of Miss Mills was compromised this morning I am unable to sleep."

"I see. What are you thinking, Crane?" The background was quiet save for the hum of low chatter. Frank must have been at the station and possibly in his office.

"We get Katrina to give up Henry Parrish. I am convinced, now more than ever, that she is a part of this. She may be selling stolen or illegal goods in her store with the help of Parrish or she may know his whereabouts. I refuse to believe she played no part in this." His voice was low so as not to wake Abbie but just as strong with conviction is if he was speaking regularly.

"This is all conjecture, Crane. I can't go off of that. I need hard proof. The best thing we could do is interrogate him about her involvement and follow up on what he says. But he may not even implicate her. If what Abbie says about Abraham being one of Parrish's Horsemen is true, he may not even talk. I know you just wanna help, Crane, but right now all we can do is wait."

He was certain he may not have meant it but Crane felt every bit as if Frank was being condescending. "Yes, we shall wait. We shall wait for Henry Parrish to send another of his Horsemen after Abbie. Perhaps if it is not her car they vandalize this time it shall be her house and an attempt could be made on her life. We shall wait until then."

Crane closed his eyes tightly then as he felt his heart beat in fear that he would not be able to keep Abbie safe. He knew he could never forgive himself if he sat idly by while her life was in danger.

"I understand you're upset, Crane, I do. But I have done all I can at this point. I'll see if we can question Katrina to see what she knows about Charlotte's murder but that is all that can be done right now. Might I also remind you that Abbie Mills is a former FBI agent? She knows how to handle herself, Crane."

He exhaled deeply as he leaned against the kitchen counter. "Yes, of course, Captain."

"Goodnight, Crane."

The line went dead and it was all Crane could do to keep from throwing the phone to the ground. As upset as he was that his plan could not come to fruition just yet, he was even more upset at how useless he felt considering his personal ties to Abraham and Katrina.

But if nothing else could be done at the moment then he had no choice but to wait. He looked around the living room and kitchen and noticed it wasn't exactly clean. Crane knew Abbie slept like the dead and, despite the late hour, he felt like straightening the first floor for her. She'd been through enough the previous day and the weeks before. He wanted to help.

Crane plugged his phone into a speaker on the kitchen counter, cueing up Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake, Op. 20, Act II: No. 10. He hummed to himself as he moved around the kitchen, spraying down the counters and taking old food from the refrigerator.

He felt his nerves settle as his mind focused only on the task at hand. There was something inherently calming about cleaning at night. His thoughts could not stray toward anything too poisonous as long as his hands stayed busy. He made quick work of the kitchen and moved to the living room.

The layout of Abbie's home was a mirror image of his own with few differences. He was mindful of any noise he made just in case Abbie woke up again. He finished in about two hours, and when he decided to retreat upstairs back to Abbie's side, he felt quite accomplished.

When he climbed back into the bed, his back was to Abbie and, as if sensing the return of presence, she latched onto him, tossing one arm over his torso and a leg over his own. He sighed in content and nestled as deeply as he could into her before he, too, fell asleep again.

* * *

The cell was quite the opposite of what one would expect in the Sleepy Hollow Police Department. It was abnormally bright despite the presumably late hour. The glowing fluorescent lights made sleep a moot plan. The air from the vents made him believe quite often that he was being held in Siberia.

The steel grey eyes of Abraham Van Brundt's eyes bore holes into the ceiling as he waited and waited for any semblance of sleep to come to him. He thought of how he ended up in the holding cell to begin with.

Ichabod Crane had been Abraham's friend, brother even, for most of his adult life. He'd known that Ichabod and Katrina were going to be together. After all, Ichabod had been over the moon about her. He talked about her without any cease in sight. He worshipped the ground she walked on.

It was positively disgusting.

Abraham was a man who believed in telling blunt truths and he would be upfront about how he felt about his best friend. The jealousy came after Abraham's own interactions with Katrina. Due to her permanent presence at Ichabod's side, the three of them grew to be close friends, Katrina and Abraham especially.

The feeling of love, however, came when Ichabod had gone to a conference in Edinburgh for a week. He made Abraham swear to look after Katrina in his stead and to make sure she wanted for nothing. Had Abraham been the man Ichabod was, he would have kept Katrina at arm's length. He would have squashed his feelings, done everything he could to escape them.

But there was a reason he was Abraham and not Ichabod.

Abraham was not an honorable man, not in the way that Ichabod was. He certainly had a code but he didn't give a shit about honor. Honor was a weakness he could not afford to have. Thus, the week of the Edinburgh conference was when the affair between he and Katrina began.

Katrina, for her part, had her reasons for engaging in the affair with Ichabod's best friend. Due to his work, she and Ichabod's schedules were no longer in sync. She was close to finishing her degree in Business and he was in the middle of his master's degree in History. They fought often and barely touched each other. She just wanted to feel loved again and Abraham, for all his faults, made her feel that way.

He recalled the day Ichabod found them, how angry he'd been. Abraham recalled not only how smug he was at having finally wrested Crane's soul mate from him but how relieved he was that they did not need to hide anymore. He loved Katrina more than anything and he was happy she'd finally left Crane.

Abraham considered how things had been lately between he and Katrina. She knew about Parrish now and was growing more and more antsy as the days passed. She was not above illegal activities, but, considering the proximity of said activities to the local police department and the FBI, she could not deny that she was worried.

He blinked as he tugged his lip, still in deep thought. He knew he would be interrogated and charged the following day. There was the possibility that he would be moved from the holding cell to a county jail. He hadn't talked so he knew Henry would have him out in no time.

Abraham wasn't a huge fan of his great uncle, but he found it hard to disagree with the man who was responsible for the nearly quarter million in his bank account every six months. In exchange, Abraham was Henry Parrish's hands. He did his dirty work which, lately, also included vandalization and murder.

He was not a soulless man. Some part of him felt guilty about his recent murder of the college professor who'd maintained ownership of the obsidian dagger Parrish wanted to add to his collection. Still, he managed to push the guilt away. To be guilty was to be weak.

"Get up. You've got a visitor." a voice said from outside the cell.

Abraham sat up slowly and moved so that his back was flat against the wall. The guarding officer was an older man who appeared beyond exhausted. A small smirk tugged at his mouth when he saw who his visitor was.

"Uncle Henry."

The old man smiled, his terribly wrinkled skin pulling across the sharp bones of his face. His eyes, which sometimes gave the impression that he would fall asleep any minute, were hard and glinting. He held in front of him his long dark cherry wood cane which was topped with a small metal sphere. Despite the late hour, he wore a crisp black suit and matching dress shoes.

"Abraham." His voice, low and gravelly as it was, sent chills through Abraham. "How lovely to see you again, dear nephew. I trust you have been...discreet in your time here."

Abraham stood and walked to the bars of the cell so that he was directly in front of Henry. "Of course. I have told them I acted alone and work for no one. I am almost certain they suspect nothing more."

Henry nodded and glanced over at the guard. "Officer DiMarco, could I have a moment alone with my nephew?"

The officer nodded gruffly and went to stand outside the door of the holding block. Henry's gaze lingered thoughtfully on the door before dragging lazily back to his nephew.

"You have made me proud, Abraham. You have done everything I've asked with unwavering trust and loyalty."

A look of pure pride shone on Abraham's face and he felt himself standing a little taller as he absorbed his uncle's praise. "Of course, uncle."

"Therefore it is with great sadness that I must inform you that you have now become a liability. Though you may trust me unflinchingly, I cannot say the same for you, dear nephew." The look in Henry's eyes changed. His eyes hardened and grew cold.

Confusion echoed through every part of Abraham. "I don't understand."

"Even the most loyal man would turn on his superior to save what he loves. You are no different. I thank you for your services to me but your time in my employ has ended. You shall be out on bond in the morning and Moloch will escort you from Sleepy Hollow."

Henry's voice was monotone and cold, as if he were simply ending a completely non beneficial partnership. But having worked for Henry Parrish for years, Abraham knew what it meant.

"Goodbye, nephew." Henry patted the cell bars twice as he walked out of the cell block, ignoring Abraham's pleas for him to wait.

To anyone listening to the conversation, it would have appeared that Henry was simply firing him. But this was not the case. Dread and fear coursed through Abraham at rapid speeds. He took a deep breath and attempted to suppress the shaking in his hands. Moloch picking him up from jail could only mean one thing: Henry Parrish wanted him dead.


	14. The Bad Thing

_**Do the bad thing** _   
_**Take off your wedding ring** _   
_**But it won't make it that much easier** _   
_**It might make it worse- The Bad Thing (AM)** _

* * *

David Moloch was a tall, eerie man. He was obscenely pale and remarkably built for his height. His head was shiny and smooth, devoid of any and all hair. There was, however, a tattoo of a pentagram on the back of his head, a thing that almost always creeped out anyone in the vicinity. His eyes, set deep into his skull, were a bright, icy grey and his hair ink black, giving him a rather ghoulish appearance.

Like Parrish, Moloch also carried around a cane. The main difference, however, was that it served as a hiding place for his weapon of choice: poison. The top of the cane was a silvery skull with red where the sockets were. The pitch black suit he wore was perfectly tailored and fit him as if it had been made to do nothing else.

Although Moloch was pretty damn frightening as a silent person, he was even more so when he spoke. His voice was extremely deep and quite raspy. His face stretched into a smile that looked comically fake as he walked down the hall toward Abraham's cell.

He took pleasure in the way Abraham's face went white upon seeing him and his eyes wide with fear. It was a feeling he relished greatly.

While he didn't care to know the specifics of his friend's organization, he certainly did not mind being paid to rid Henry of his...undesirables. Henry was a very rich man who rewarded loyalty and hard work, especially where Moloch was concerned.

A lazy smile spread across Moloch's face as he gazed at the man before him. He remembered meeting Abraham a handful of times, most of them when Abraham was much, much younger. Well, the man had certainly grown since their last encounter.

"Your uncle asked that I be your...legal representative in this unfortunate situation. A plea for insanity would help you to avoid jail time, Abraham." His smile spread wider as he noticed the involuntary shiver that ran through Abraham's body.

"I am not spending my time for the foreseeable future in some loony bin. I don't care what Henry says." His voice shook slightly as he tried to maintain eye contact with Moloch. He failed and instead resorted to pacing around his cell.

Moloch let out a low chuckle as he leaned back against the wall. He lifted his cane slightly to point at Abraham. "I am certain you know that Henry views you as a liability. You a threat to his...business. Surely you know how much Henry hates loose ends. I am offering you a way out, Abraham. Plea for insanity and I will ensure you spend your time in a rather comfortable room at Tarrytown Psychiatric Center. If you wish not to, then you leave me with no choice but to make certain arrangements, as it were."

Abraham spun suddenly to face Moloch again, his eyes narrowing in distaste at the man before him. He would not lie and say that he had not felt crippling fear that he was attempting to suppress by just being in Moloch's presence. His mind spun quickly as he tried to think of a possible way out. He did not trust Moloch in any capacity, and figured that any sort of deal he was offering was practically a deal with the Devil. But, what else could he do?

"I will consider it." He replied simply, his voice devoid of emotion.

"You have until tomorrow evening, Abraham. Do not think too hard, dear boy." Moloch slipped out of the room like the slimy, disgusting snake he was and Abraham collapsed onto the bed, exhaustion suddenly hitting him like a ton of bricks.

He needed to make a phone call.

* * *

The sun bled through the windows the next day, forcing Abbie's eyes open as the shrill sound of her phone ringing yanked her from sleep. She squinted, noting it was nearly noon, and answered the phone.

"Hello?"

"I got some news, Mills." It was Frank. He must have been finishing his shift at the police station.

"Yeah?" Abbie sat up, trying to shake off the heavy sleepiness still clinging to her.

"Katrina came to the station. She said she has information about Henry Parrish."

Abbie suddenly felt awake and practically launched herself from the bed. She could hear Crane downstairs playing music and probably grading papers. "Holy shit! Has she talked yet?"

Frank sighed. "That's where things get a bit odd. She won't talk unless Crane is in the room."

"What?" Abbie felt minutely ashamed at the flash of jealousy she felt all of a sudden. "What for?"

Abbie walked downstairs to the living room, happy that Crane was supremely focused on his grading and hadn't thought too much about the short smile she'd sent his way as she plopped onto the sofa.

She heard Frank close his office door and heard him sit in that annoyingly creaky chair of his. "She trusts him. Henry's reach is deep and he may have a few cops working for him. But that is an investigation for another day and time. Long story short, she doesn't trust me."

"Well, make her! Crane isn't just some pawn that she can use whenever she wants!" Abbie's voice raised a few octaves, causing Crane to pause his activities to assess what was happening. "There cannot be any negotiations with her. Just...tell her Abraham named her as his accomplice to save his own ass. It's not a fucking stretch."

Frank chuckled to himself at the fiery tone of Abbie's voice. It was abundantly clear that she did not trust Katrina nor did she trust Katrina's motives. He couldn't deny that Abbie's idea had some merit. He needed to convince Katrina she could trust him. "I'll see what I can do, Mills."

Silence stretched between them as Crane shot her a curious look. She let out a deep breath, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Thanks, Frank."

"You're wasting your time at that school, Abbie. A campus cop? You're better than that, you know."

"Maybe. But when I decided to come back I just...took the first thing I saw. I don't think I was ready for serious police work after...after the FBI. But now...maybe." She sat back against the sofa, her neck tilting back as she stared up at the ceiling.

"You know there's always a job for you here, Mills. As Lieutenant. We could you use a mind like yours again." There was a wistful tone in Frank's voice and Abbie knew he missed the two of them working together the way they used to.

"Let me know what happens. We'll talk later." She hung up the phone and let out a deep sigh as she fell back against the sofa again. Crane was watching her curiously.

He'd stopped grading papers, pushing them aside for a moment. She closed her eyes and breathed steadily, thinking only of how much she couldn't wait to take a vacation once the shitstorm with Parrish was resolved.

"She won't talk about Parrish unless you're there, Crane. I told Frank it might be best to ignore that, show her the police won't do whatever she wants them to." She watched him carefully, looking for any sign that he still might be choosing Katrina over her.

There was silence between them and Abbie began to wonder whether or not the situation with Parrish might fracture what was between she and Crane. It felt pervasive, like it was everywhere she looked now. She found herself wondering what a relationship between them might look like without the spectres of Katrina, Henry, and Abraham hanging over them.

"Then, I suppose I must go to her then. Katrina is nothing if not resolute. If she says she will not talk unless I am present, she means exactly that. She will provide information about Parrish and all of this can be over much faster." Crane took her hand and held it tightly in his own, a resigned look upon his face.

Abbie looked down at their hands, not sure what to say next. A plan was beginning to form in her head and she knew Crane was not going to like it. Therefore, he couldn't know about it.

"You don't have anything to do with this, Crane. I'll go. She must know enough about Parrish's relationship with me to know she can trust me."

Crane held her eyes with his own and she felt almost as if he could see right through her. A flicker of some unreadable emotion passed through his eyes before he decided to speak. "I love you, Abbie. When all of this is over, we will go someplace far, far from here just the two of us. I promise."

She leaned forward and kissed him, soft and savoring, pulling him as close to her as she could get. For all she knew, it might be the last time she got the chance to. "I love you, too, Crane."

* * *

Katrina sat silently, staring down at the metallic table before her. The cent was spewing Arctic air and she was thankful she'd decided to wear a sweater. The walls were an unfortunately drab grey and the floor a well-worn black linoleum. There was only a metal door and a small window next to it out of which she could not see.

The infamous Captain Frank Irving had left the room hours ago. Had it been hours? Katrina was undure. She looked down into her bag and reached for the bottle of water and container of fruit she'd brought with her, anticipating prior to her arrival that it would be a long day indeed.

The water barely helped calm her churning stomach and she realized she was fidgeting with her hands more often than usual. She was worried about Abraham. He'd called her, telling her he'd been arrested for vandalizing Abigail Mills' car and...murder. He'd sounded so calm upon revealing to her what she'd already began to suspect. Still, she knew that if he was calling her, he probably was in trouble. That trouble was most likely in the form of Henry Parrish.

Despite the circumstances of the beginnings of her relationship with Abraham, his relationship with Parrish and his other shady activities, she could not deny that she absolutely loved him. What she'd felt for Ichabod was different, love borne from duty or obligation more than anything. A large part of her regretted not leaving Ichabod before their marriage. At some point she'd decided to marry Ichabod because she had to. She'd accepted his proposal and she could not go back on it.

She realized now that she was a coward for not having the courage to tell him she did not love him as much as he did her. She'd hurt him and terribly. Still, she could not aquash the very small flare of jealousy she felt when she thought about Abigail Mills and Ichabod together.

Katrina laughed, bitter and mocking, at herself as she remembered her encounter with Abigail in the grocery store on Thanksgiving Day. You really have a lot of nerve. Those words echoed in her head now. She knew she was risking her own life even coming to the police.

The doorknob turned just then and Katrina's eyes darted to the doorway, wondering if the Captain was going to try again to get her to talk about Henry. She was instead surprised to see one Abigail Mills there. Captain Irving was nowhere in sight.

"We meet again." Abbie said, her voice firm but devoid of any particular emotion.

Katrina tried her best to quash her suddenly venomous mood and instead offered a small smile to the woman before her. "Indeed. Why are you here when I asked for Ichabod?" She inwardly grimaced at the cool nature of her tone. She hadn't meant it to come out sounding so off.

A somewhat smug smile lit Abbie's face and she shrugged. "Good news and bad news. Which do you want first?"

Katrina said nothing, instead narrowing her eyes slightly as she considered the woman before her. She supposed she could understand why Ichabod had been drawn to her: she was fiery, she was extremely beautiful, she had a trustworthy nature about herself. Katrina suddenly felt very ashamed.

"Well, then," Abbie continued as she leaned forward in the chair. "The bad news is that Crane is not coming for you. The good news is that you may be able to get Henry Parrish off of yours and Abraham's backs."

Katrina glanced briefly at the two-way glass before bringing her attention back to Abbie. "I'm afraid I don't know what you mean."

Abbie sighed, closing her eyes for a moment, before leaning in closer to Katrina. "Tell Parrish you have me. I'm who he wants. Bring me to him and he may decide not to kill you and Abraham."

The silent air between them was charged and Abbie made certain to school her features into being straight. She could not show that she was having any doubts about her plan.

Katrina's eyes widened slightly. "Abigail...you're talking about kidnapping!"

She shrugged in response. "It's not kidnapping if you're taking me to him, Katrina." Her voice was level, nonchalant.

The other woman leaned across the table so that she was inches from Abbie's face. "You can't! He will kill you, that much I know. Have you told Ichabod about this?"

"No," Abbie replied eventually. "Crane doesn't know, and I want to keep it that way."


	15. If You Were There, Beware

**_There's a circle of witches, ambitiously vicious they are  
Our attempts to remind them of reason won't get us that far-If You Were There, Beware (AM)_ **

* * *

"You're out of your goddamn mind, Mills."

Abbie sat back in one of the chairs in the conference room, eyeing Frank patiently. "It's a good plan, Frank. Besides, I already used a contact from the FBI. She's in charge of all things Henry Parrish now. I just need a really small wire and they'll know how to get to me."

Frank's eyes flashed angrily and he sighed loudly. "Are you forgetting that you almost got killed the last time you tried to do something like this?"

Silence filled the room then as Abbie's face got concerningly blank. She took a deep breath and leaned forward. "I know this is risky, Frank. But I can't just keep...waiting for Parrish to kill me or burn my house down or, God forbid, do something to Crane or Jenny. I can't just sit back. You know that's not me. I want to get ahead of this and get Parrish gone for good."

Just then, there was a knock on the door and a woman who was a few inches taller than Abbie came in. She had dark wavy hair that came down her back and olive skin. Her eyes, naturally narrow, were a deep brown. She was wearing a pristine pantsuit and her heels clicked against the floor as she closed the door behind her.

"Captain Frank Irving, meet Special Agent-in-Charge Sophie Foster. She's running point on the Parrish case for the FBI." Abbie gestured from Frank to Sophie and she gave him a pleasant though guarded smile.

Frank gave Abbie a disapproving look before extending his hand to Sophie. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Agent Foster. Now, if you'll please tell me the details of this harebrained plan of Abbie's, I'd appreciate it."

Sophie laughed and gave Abbie a fond look. "With all due respect, Captain, I believe in Abbie Mills. She was a damned good agent when we had her. Of course, you know that the Sleepy Hollow PD and the FBI have a mutual interest in making sure Henry Parrish and his cronies rot in prison for the rest of their lives. Mills provided a perfect opportunity for that."

Frank gave a deep sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Fine, fine. What's the plan?"

* * *

Crane could not shake the feeling that something was off with Abbie when she kissed him.

She'd left shortly after, saying she needed to go to the station to see if Katrina might talk to her. She wasn't officially a Sleepy Hollow officer anymore but he knew Frank trusted her. He was more than relieved that he had not gone to the station. He wasn't sure what it would be like to see Katrina, what feelings he might have had.

He looked around the living room and the essays he finished grading, now absent of some task to put his mind toward. He felt jittery, his energy soaring.

He closed his eyes and thought about Abbie, her eyes and her touch, her voice. He thought about the warm reassurances that she loved him and wanted to be with him. He thought of her fiery nature and the anger she felt after Abraham was arrested. He thought about the fact that her presence was enough to calm him.

His mind came back to rest on the memory of her kissing him just before she left for the station. Something was off. But what was it? The kiss had been no different from any other they'd shared. He could practically feel her love for him when she'd pulled closer to him.

It hit him rather suddenly, two hours later when he was about to start cooking dinner. He knew an interrogation must not take as long as it had and had been idly wondering what time Abbie would return when he recalled the way Abbie looked down at her hands before she'd kissed him.

He dropped the knife in his hand as the breath seemed to vacate his body. She couldn't. She wouldn't. Crane raced to his phone, dialing the Captain's number, hoping and praying that he was wrong.

He answered on the second ring. "Crane. What's up?" His voice sounded guarded, as if he was trying to be careful of his words.

"Where is she, Captain?" Crane's voice was urgent, nearly shaking, because if Abbie had done what he suspected…

"I can't tell you, Crane-"

"Where is she?" His voice was a little more forceful now as fear coursed through him.

"Not over the phone, Crane. Come to the station."

* * *

Katrina made Abbie get into the trunk of her car, blindfolded her, and zip tied her hands. Abbie had to admit that the trunk was more spacious than she would have imagined a trunk to be, or perhaps she was just that small.

Wherever they were going, the road was rather smooth at first. She counted to sixty in her head the moment Katrina closed the trunk in an effort to keep time. So far, she'd been in the trunk for nearly half an hour.

Abbie rolled over onto her back and imagined she could be staring up at something other than soul swallowing darkness. She thought about Crane. He was incredibly intelligent and she knew he must have figured out what she'd done by now. At that moment, he most likely was pressing Frank and Sophie for information on where she'd gone.

A part of her felt horrible for lying to him, for not telling him that she was going to use herself as bait for Henry Parrish. She didn't even know what she would do once Katrina brought her to him. She hadn't thought that far ahead.

Sophie had given her a pair of small, insignificant earrings that were both trackers and wires. She and Frank would be able to hear what was happening and would come when the time was right. Of course, it was very plausible that they weren't far behind, but Abbie doubted that. She'd told them to wait two hours after she left with Katrina to come for her. So far, she wasn't even through the first hour.

She let out a small sigh just as Katrina hit a particularly bumpy area, causing Abbie to be knocked around in the trunk. She rolled her eyes inwardly, knowing when this entire ordeal was over that her body would be a wreck.

And her relationship with Crane.

She felt tears sting her eyes immediately and she blinked hard to keep them from falling. She just hoped he would understand.

The car swerved rather suddenly and Abbie was tossed around the trunk for what felt like forever. She felt her stomach drop as the car soared and landed with a sickening crunch, Abbie falling immediately unconscious.

* * *

"She did what?!" Jenny and Crane yelled at the same time. Frank and Sophie gave each other cautioning glances before taking deep breaths.

"She wanted to use herself as bait so we can finally catch Parrish." Sophie calmly replied as she walked them to her government issued SUV. The first hour since Abbie and Katrina had left the station was closing and Abbie's tracker had stalled of the app on her tablet was any indication.

They got into the SUV: Frank in the driver's seat with Sophie on the passenger side, Jenny and Crane in the back. Jenny had been called by Crane when he began to suspect that something might be up with Abbie. She'd come to the station immediately.

"Why would she do something so-"

"Foolhardy!" Crane interrupted, his voice raised a few octaves.

Frank glanced down at Sophie's tablet and sped out of the parking lot along the same route they knew Abbie and Katrina had been on.

"Don't worry, Mr. Crane. We've taken every precaution to make sure Abbie gets through this safely. We gave her a wire tracker. We know where she is, we only have to catch up. Doesn't look like her tracker has moved passed the mile 45 marker, though." Sophie said the last part to herself quietly, not wanting to inflame Crane and Jenny any further.

Jenny, however, would not be placated. "What if Parrish figures out she has a wire and kills her?! I can't believe you let her do this, Frank!" Her face was getting somewhat redder as she yelled at Frank who was doing his level best to stay focused on the road ahead.

"She'll be fine. We just need her to set a trap for Parrish and he can finally be arrested. We're not too far behind them." Sophie Foster was more than used to emotions running high during investigations.

An indignant expression took residence on Crane's face as he flexed his hands nervously, his long fingers stretching straighter each time he did so. His jaw clenched and he glared ahead as if he could burn a hole through the windshield with his very eyes.

A half hour passed in uncomfortable silence as a worrisome tension mounted in the car. Crane took out his phone and stared down at the lock screen for as long as he could: it was a picture of Abbie smiling ahead as she lay down on his chest. She'd taken his phone from him that time, insisting he have at least one good picture of her in his phone. He felt his chest tighten at the thought of any harm coming to Abbie.

"Oh, no." Sophie breathed out, looking down at her tablet.

"What? What is it?" Jenny pressed, leaning forward.

Sophie turned around, a moderately fearful look in her eyes. "Abbie's tracker just went offline."

* * *

Katrina regained consciousness a few minutes after the car had been tossed. Through the windshield she could see that the car had gotten wrapped around a tree. The engine was steaming and the car was creaking as the metal protested against its new unnatural forms.

Her head hurt unlike any pain she could ever recall feeling. Her eyes travelled lazily around what she could see of the car. The road beyond was dark and deserted, giving no indication of what had caused her to crash. She tried to sit up and realized...she couldn't. Everything below her head was immovable. She let out a whimpering cry as the pain pressed down on her more and more. She was stuck in the same position, her head hugging the steering wheel.

She heard footsteps in the dead leaves on her side of the car and her tearful eyes travelled as far as they could to see who it was. They widened upon seeing one David Moloch.

He looked down at her with a gruesome smile. "Mr. Parrish surely appreciates your dedication in wanting to bring to him Abigail Mills, however, I fear he has decided to end his...partnership, as it were. I must say I am terribly sorry it has come to this, Katrina."

Moloch hit this cane on the ground twice and it made a clicking noise as the top unscrewed automatically. He reached down and pulled the silvery skull top away from the cane and Katrina noted with horror that a small vial with dark red liquid was inside. His poison.

Her eyes widened and she gasped in pain as another wave hit her head again. "Please…", she rasped. "Please, I am already dying."

Moloch let out a deep, chilling laugh as he opened the vial and leaned forward. "Then I'm sure you won't mind if I hasten the process"

* * *

The SUV arrived at the site of a car crash not 20 minutes after Abbie's tracker went offline. The dark blue car was wrapped around a tree, the engine steaming. The four of them took note of the way the metal had been bent, looking quite close to a crushed piece of paper.

"No," Crane breathed out, his eyes wide with shock. "No, please, no."

"That's Katrina's car." Sophie announced as the four of them immediately got out and ran to inspect it. They stopped first at the trunk which had been thrown open.

There were spots of smeared blood inside and a dark brown leather jacket inside. He knew that jacket. It was Abbie's. So where was she?

"I think you need to see this, Agent Foster." Frank announced from the driver's side of the car. "Crane, I-it might be best that you stay back-"

"What is it?" Crane responded, his eyes glued on Abbie's jacket. Jenny peered inside the trunk, her hand covering her mouth as tears stung her eyes.

The night was dark and nearly silent around them. It seemed that any wildlife had gone quiet. The only sound was that of cold air howling around them. Crane walked over to the driver's side. His stomach dropped to his feet as he saw a battered Katrina Van Tassel-Crane against the steering wheel. Her eyes stared past him, unseeing. Her mouth hung slightly open, a stream of blood around it. Her fiery hair was splayed across the steering wheel, her arms limp across the dashboard.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Crane. Katrina is dead."


	16. Balaclava

_**You'll find yourself in a skirmish where you wish you'd never been born** _  
_**You tie yourself to the tracks and there isn't no going back** _  
_**And it's wrong, wrong, wrong** _  
_**But we'll do it anyway 'cause we love a bit of trouble-Balaclava (AM)** _

* * *

 

Ichabod Alexander Crane sat in the empty office of Captain Frank Irving at the Sleepy Hollow police station wondering precisely what he'd done to piss off God above and any other deities.

Federal agents had descended upon the station not long after Crane arrived, the doing of Ms. Foster undoubtedly. The case would now be handled by Agent Foster and the rest of the FBI. Frank was upset but there wasn't much he could do about it other than hope that Abraham Van Brundt could be of any use to figuring out where Parrish and even Abbie might be.

Jenny was gone, already calling upon her many contacts for any leads toward where her sister might be. For her, there hadn't been enough blood to suggest that Abbie might have been killed and that fact comforted her, even if she knew Abbie was most likely currently suffering at the hands of Henry Parrish.

Crane felt like he had not been able to breathe properly since they'd seen Katrina's car wrapped around that tree and had found her body inside. There hadn't been anything to indicate why she'd crashed in the first place or where Abbie went. His heart felt like it was constricting within his chest. He could not escape the feeling that he'd lost everything.

"Maybe you should go home and get some sleep, Crane." Frank was hovering in the doorway cautiously.

He felt like cold water had been poured over him and he blinked a few times as he looked up at Frank. "I'm not leaving this station, Captain." His voice was hard and firm, leaving no room for debate.

"Staying here won't help anything. There's nothing you can do-"

"Let me speak to Abraham Van Brundt." Crane's voice was cold and pressing as his eyes bore into Frank's.

Frank nodded solemnly and gestured that Crane follow him. They made their way to the holding cell Abraham was in, and Crane realized he had not laid eyes on the man since he'd put Katrina out.

Abraham was lying on the cot in the corner of the cell, his back turned to them. "What now, Moloch? You gave me a day to decide. Surely the time has not come and gone so swiftly." His voice betrayed a mood of boredom and fatigue. Crane noted the abandoned sandwich and cup of water on the floor.

"Abraham." Crane's voice was cold and he felt quite ashamed that some part of him took an odd satisfaction at seeing the way Abraham's body tensed in response.

The man in question rose stiffly from the cot and walked toward the bars. "Well, aren't you brave." His steel grey eyes bore holes through Crane.

Crane glared at the man, feeling a rage he was wholly unfamiliar with consume him. He felt his hands clench painfully at his side into fists. He closed his eyes, Abbie's face floating into his mind, and took a calming breath.

"Katrina is dead."

A smothering silence filled the room as Crane and Abraham let the weight of those words settle upon them. Crane felt tears sting his eyes as he realized that his childhood best friend, the former love of his life was dead. Odd as it was, he yearned for Abbie then, if only to wrap his arms around her and never let her go.

"You liar!" Abraham yelled, breaking Crane from his thoughts. "How dare you say such a thing?!" His face had gone red, a vein standing out in his forehead.

Crane took a breath and provided Abraham with a level stare. "I may despise you for what you did in the past, Abraham, but I would never speak those words were they untrue."

He screamed then and both Frank and Crane flinched at the sound. They watched pitifully as Abraham hurled himself into the wall, his sobs both a mixture of screaming and crying. "No, no, no! Not her! He promised not her!"

For the next ten minutes they watched as Abraham broke down, and Crane tried his best not to break down himself. He felt it coming, and tried desperately to stifle it.

"You need to tell us everything you know about Parrish." Crane said, his voice surprisingly biting. He felt his eyes narrow.

Abraham slowly looked up at him, his face a troubling red and his eyes bloodshot. His hands shook as he spoke his next words. "I will not." His voice was low and fierce and Crane had to suppress the urge to rip his throat out.

He was up to the cell bars in two strides and reached through the bars to pull Abraham by his shirt toward him, ignoring Frank's pleas that he stop.

"You will. What you will _not_ do is allow Katrina's death to be in vain because of your own foolish pride. I will not allow it," he hissed, his voice particularly biting. "He has taken my Grace from me and I refuse to let her become one more victim to that insane, cowardly excuse of a man."

He felt his face his heating up and could see red around the edge of his vision. He could see a minute sliver of terror in Abraham's eyes as Frank pulled him away.

"Crane, stop! You are not gonna find Abbie this way!"

Crane spat into Abraham's cell. "I'll not waste my time with this coward any longer. I will find a way back to her or I will _make_ one."

* * *

 

She woke up with a heavy pressure in her head. She groaned against the pain and tried to move, noting that her wrists were tied to something and her arms were unbelievably sore. Her head felt like it was pounding and her sides hurt terribly.

She looked around, noting that she was in a small, dim room. It was incredibly cold and the cement floor was stained ice. A rat skittered across the floor before her, letting out a high shriek as it went. She shivered and shrunk back against the wall slightly, her arms screaming in protest as she did so.

Looking around, she noticed that her wrists were tied to a hook a bit above her head. Her arms burned in agony as she tried to free herself from the ties and she gave up after five minutes.

"Oh, good. You're awake." She would know that voice anywhere, the voice that haunted her dreams since the day she lost Danny.

A latch in the metal door ahead was pulled back and she could see Henry Parrish's piercing green eyes through it. The door gave a reluctant groan as it was pushed open and in he came with a tall, unreasonably pale man close behind him. Upon closer inspection, the tall, bald man was decidedly much creepier. His ice grey eyes were set deep into his skull and his inky black hair was slicked back from his face, running the length of his neck. He dressed in an all black suit and gripped the cane at his side tightly.

Henry Parrish looked about as ancient as Abbie had remembered, his deeply aged skin stretched beyond reason across his bones, his lips resembling an open wound.

"Well, you know I had to get my beauty sleep, Parrish." Abbie replied with an empty, fake smile. She did her best to steady the shaking in her arms, not wanting to appear weak in front of him.

He let out a cackling laugh that idly reminded Abbie of a cartoon supervillain. "I forgot how charming you could be, dear Abigail. But I'm afraid I must have my fun. If you'll recall, you and an agent by the name of Daniel Reynolds attempted to infiltrate my organization in the hopes of allowing your fellow FBI agents to arrest me."

Her voice was level, playful even as she passed him a smug smirk. "How could I forget?"

His eyes narrowed at her slightly and he stepped to the side, allowing his skeletal compatriot to come forward. "I do not take kindly to betrayal and deception, Abigail. I would think you know that by now. Since you don't, I shall ask my good friend here to remind you. Goodbye for now, dearest."

Abbie could not deny the spike of fear she felt when Parrish left the room and closed the door behind him, leaving her alone with his ghoulish friend.

The man in question looked down at her thoughtfully and she replaced the fear in her eyes with resolve, steeling herself for whatever she was about to experience at the hands of this man.

"The invincible Abigail Mills. Let us see how you bleed." His voice was cold, devoid of any particular emotion, and Abbie felt her skin crawl.

She suddenly felt a pain like white fire across her face and her vision went sideways as she fell over. She felt a warm trickling down the side of her face, close to her eye, and realized she was bleeding. The man with the cane had struck her across the face with the top of his cane.

He squatted down next to her, cutting the ties from the hook above her before reaching one of his disgustingly long fingers to her face and swiping some of the blood from it. "Oh, I think I shall quite enjoy my time with you."

He let out a low shuddering laugh as he left the room licking his finger, the bolting sound of the lock not far behind. Abbie waited until she no longer heard his footsteps before letting out a quiet, strangled sob.

Her face pulsed in pain and she lamented the fact that she had not listened to Frank nor had she told Crane about her plan. How had she been so stupid? The last thing she remembered was Katrina's car flying, and if Abbie was locked up with Parrish, it meant that Katrina was probably death.

She felt her heart beat faster and her breath speed up beyond her control. Tears fell from her eyes as she realized she was having a panic attack. Her last thought before she passed out was none too comforting.

_I am going to die here._


	17. Dance Little Liar

_**I heard the truth was built to bend** _   
_**A mechanism to suspend the guilt** _   
_**Is what you are requiring still** _   
_**You've got to dance little liar-Dance Little Liar (AM)** _

* * *

 

_1 Week Later…_

She had not spoken a word in front of Parrish and his disgusting friend Moloch since the day she woke up. She learned the horrid man's name when Parrish instructed him to let him borrow the cane.

They had given up on physically torturing Abbie after three days. If her scarce medical training was anything to go by, she had a few fractured ribs, some sort of deep gash on her face, and bruised bones in her legs. Overall, she felt extremely sore, her muscles unreasonably stiff. She felt absolutely disgusting. She had not taken a shower since the day she left with Katrina, nor had she washed her hair. She'd wrestled her hair into two long braids, though it took her what surely must have been hours to work through the pain in her sides and the soreness in her arms.

As she marked another line down the wall with an abandoned rock, she thought, not for the first time, that Henry Parrish was not going to kill her. If he wanted to, he would have done it already. But something was keeping him from doing so. She smiled wryly to herself as she thought of the saying about gift horses and mouths.

She just needed to form a plan to escape. She would not wait for anyone to rescue her. She would not be helpless. Abbie eyes the rock again appreciatively as she realized that with every mark on the wall the rock was getting sharper. All she needed was to use it on the day when Parrish would be coming in alone.

She was able to tell the time by her sleep schedule. She knew she always got dog-tired at 10pm, no matter what she was doing. She knew she woke up at 6am on the dot every morning she had to work. She knew she felt a light tug to sleep around 2pm. Basing everything around those factors, she knew she'd been in Parrish's custody for roughly a week.

She also learned that Moloch was not with Parrish every waking moment. Every other day Parrish was alone, and only came inside the cell to taunt her. She was no longer tied up and she knew there was no camera in the room she was in. Yes, her plan would go the way she needed it to. She only needed patience for the perfect opening.

Her chance came three days later after a particularly brutal bout of beating at the hands of Moloch the day before. He'd beat her with his cane, focusing on her sides and forcing the pain there to bloom.

To her credit, she had not cried out once. She could sense that her lack of reaction was causing great boredom for both Moloch and Parrish.

"I've brought you dinner, dear Abigail." That awful, gravelly voice said from outside the door. It was Parrish.

He came in holding a large brown bag in one hand and a chair in the other. She could not deny the way her mouth salivated upon smelling the sandwiches he had in the bag. All she had been given was water and bread. There was a small bucket in the corner for her to use when she needed to.

Her eyes lit up at the idea that she would be breaking out of the disgusting room that was beginning to feel far too much like a prison. Parrish, however, mistook the look in her eyes for desperation for food. He smiled wickedly as he looked down on her.

She inconspicuously slipped the sharpened rock under her thigh and out of his sight. "What is it?" She asked, putting a small tremor in her voice to convey her desire to eat. It was halfway accurate.

Henry Parrish positioned the chair in front of her as she moved the rock slowly into her side. "I had sandwiches prepared for us, Abigail. Turkey and cranberry, the kind you preferred during our meetings. I thought you might appreciate the irony."

Abbie wordlessly took the sandwich he gave her, inspecting it through sight and smell in case he'd somehow poisoned it. Seeing her reluctance, he tore a large chunk from her sandwich and ate it himself before giving her an emotionless smile.

She took a bite, chewing slowly and in small portions so as not to get her stomach too riled up. She supposed Parrish didn't have to bring her any food at all but she would take what she could get from him. Just then a question occurred to her, but she realized his answer would not matter in a few minutes.

"Why haven't you killed me yet, Parrish?" The concern was genuine. She knew Parrish's hatred for her was mostly due to the fact that he had been deceived as to she and Danny's true selves, but even that wasn't enough to qualify his holding her hostage for nearly two weeks.

A minute of uncomfortable silence passed between them as Henry ate the rest of his sandwich. He leaned forward when he was done so that his face was only a foot from her own.

"You are special to me, Abigail. No one was ever able to infiltrate my organization and stay alive quite as skillfully as you were able to. I must commend that. You have a certain...skillset I desire." He wore a rather sour expression upon his face, though Abbie admittedly was unable to tell whether or not it was his normal facial expression.

Abbie's eyes narrowed slightly. "You want me to work for you? After all of this?"

Parrish shrugged in response before giving her a lazy smirk. "A mind like yours is a terrible thing to waste, Abigail. You would be quite an asset to my enterprise, you know."

Abbie eased the rock from her side slowly, schooling her expression to appear thoughtful. With a speed that surprised even her, she brought the rock into Parrish's head quickly, ignoring his grunt in pain as she stood. The force from her blow had knocked him over from his chair and she stood over him, repeating the blows to his head until she knew he was unconscious.

She let out several deep breaths as the pain in her sides made itself even more apparent. A relatively thin stream of blood fell from the top of Parrish's head and his eyes were supremely unfocused as she looked down at the source of her recent anxiety and misery.

"I don't think so." She ground out a response to his earlier question before striking him one final time, ending the life of the great Henry Parrish.

It felt anticlimactic.

Here was a man who had engrained in her a fear and anxiety of his seemingly omnipotent character, and yet here he was, dead at the hands of one Grace Abigail Mills.

She took a few steadying breaths, feeling the beginnings of adrenaline coursing through her veins. Whatever she did next needed to be done quickly while her pain wasn't so prominent. She searched Parrish's pockets and found a small handgun and a set of keys before opening the door and leaving that nightmarish room behind.

From what she could observe, she was in an abandoned warehouse. The building was larger than she anticipated, and she realized that it must be the abandoned Summerfield Lumber Mill a few miles outside of Sleepy Hollow.

Parrish's Horsemen must have been away doing their bidding because she did not run into any of them. She was halfway to the exit of the mill when she heard shouting and an eruption of distant gunfire.

Her heart beat fearfully in her chest and she looked around frantically before starting again for the exit. As it happened, the exit was an automated garage door. She pressed the button several times, the keys in her palm digging into her skin as she clenched both hands tightly.

Another bout of gunfire caused her to turn again. It had sounded as though it were getting closer. She tried to steady her quick breathing, knowing that she would have to hold off on panicking until she was safe to do so.

With new resolve, she turned to duck under the garage door when a face stopped her in her tracks. She brought her hand up to her mouth in shock as the person looked at her curiously.

"Abbie?"

 


	18. From the Ritz to the Rubble

_**Well I'm so glad they turned us all away we'll put it down to fate** _   
_**I said a thousand million things that I could never say this morning** _   
_**Got too deep, but how deep is too deep?-From the Ritz to the Rubble (AM)** _

* * *

 

_24 Hours Ago…_

Crane could only be thankful that classes at the university were not in session. He was spending every single day since Abbie disappeared at the police station or revisiting the area where Katrina's car had crashed.

"Why have you not found her yet?" Crane ground out as he glared furiously at the board before him in Frank's office.

"This is a delicate case, Crane. We need to be prepared to arrest Parrish when we find Abbie. We can't go in blind." Agent Foster replied, not for the first time, as she passed him a small smile of understanding.

Crane, however, would not be placated. "I do not understand how she could simply vanish from the trunk of a car. It makes no sense. She is out there somewhere."

Frank gave him a somewhat pitying and sad look. "Crane, I believe in Abbie as much as anyone who knows her does. But we need to prepare for the fact that we may possibly find a body and not…not her. Are you ready for that?"

Agent Foster looked at him expectantly as she held on to her tablet. He let out a deep sigh and put his head in his hands, dragging them down his face as he tried to shove away the thought of Abbie being dead. The idea shook him to his core and he hoped that she was still alive.

They spent the next few hours reviewing any traffic footage they had over and over again. They went through Katrina's bank statements to see if there was any indication of where she might have been trying to go. It led them nowhere. Agent Foster kept checking the app she'd been using to track Abbie through the earrings, hoping somehow they might come back online. She even had the IT department on it. But there had yet to be any particularly helpful developments.

It was nearly five in the morning when they decided to call it a night. Crane headed back to Abbie's townhouse. He had chosen to stay there instead of his own. His felt more like a mausoleum than anything now that Katrina was dead.

The house was still eerily quiet, and he chided himself for thinking Abbie might have somehow reappeared in his absence. He got to work making a sandwich and took out some tea, hoping it might calm his nerves. More than anything, he needed to sleep. But the threat of nightmares made him fearful of doing so. After what Frank had asked him to prepare himself for, he worried he might go to sleep and see Abbie's mangled body.

Still, he somehow slipped into a dreamless sleep that carried him through the next twelve hours until his phone and his hunger woke him from his deep slumber. He still felt tired, but knew it was the result of only getting an hour or two of sleep the past two weeks.

He frowned upon seeing Jenny's name on the screen and he felt his heart sink as he realized that she might be calling him to tell him that Abbie was dead. He closed his eyes, bracing himself before answering.

"Miss Jenny. To what do I owe this pleasure?" His voice was tight with apprehension.

"I got a lead. One of my contacts works security for Parrish. He said he thinks he knows where Abbie might be held up." Her voice was quick, and Crane could hear the barely contained excitement in her voice.

He felt his stomach squirm. "Meet me at the station."

"I'm already here. Now, hurry up. I have a sister to find."

It was nearly 7pm when Crane arrived at the police station to see several agents and officers in tactical gear. He frowned as he walked past the bullpen and to Captain Irving's office. Agent Foster, Jenny, and Frank were inside.

"Where is she?" He'd asked this question nearly every day since she'd gone missing.

Jenny stood, giving him a small smile. "She's alive, Crane. My contact told me she's at the Summerfield Lumber Mill just outside town."

"She's been two hours outside of town all this time." Agent Foster asked, though more to herself than anyone else.

Crane closed his eyes tightly in annoyance. "Oh, of course. It was perfect. He must have known we would think he took her out of the state or the country. We would never think to look for her here."

Agent Foster gave him a genuine smile as she patted him on the shoulder. He peered down at her curiously. "This is good, Crane. We're gonna get her back and arrest Parrish. This is all gonna be over soon." She left the office then to give information and orders to the tactical team.

He could not deny the fluttering feeling of nervousness that suddenly filled him. He was beyond excited to see his Abbie again, but he could not deny that he felt worried. Today was the day. Parrish could not be allowed to threaten them any longer.

"Hey," Jenny touched his arm softly, giving him a mildly encouraging smile. "We're about to get her back. You want her to see you all frowned up like this?"

Crane responded with a rather begrudging smile of his own and shook his head slightly. "No, of course not."

He joined Agent Foster, Captain Irving, and Jenny in the large SUV, taking notice of the darkening sky as they prepared for their journey to the Summerfield Mill. He stared out the window as much as he could before the darkness completely nixed that particular remedy to his present anxiety.

He closed his eyes, leaning against the window, and allowed them to fall shut. He would need to be more alert than ever, prepared for anything. The twelve hours of sleep he'd gotten earlier suddenly felt extremely draining.

He woke up when the car suddenly stopped. He sat up quickly as he realized that the time had come to rescue Abbie. Agent Foster was quietly giving orders to the tactical team and Captain Irving. They appeared to be going over the schematics of the building and Jenny was pointing to various spots indicating where her contact had stated there might be the most security.

Crane drew himself to full height, his body stiff in posture. Jenny nodded to the group affirmatively before walking over to Crane.

"How are you feeling?" She asked, looking up at him concernedly.

He nodded nearly imperceptibly and peered around, his instincts telling to be alert for any and all threats. "I am ready to be done with this entire ordeal."

Jenny nodded in understanding. "I'm just ready to get my sister back."

* * *

 

"Abbie?"

She felt the floor drop from beneath her as she saw Moloch standing there, a curious expression on his face. She could feel the fear coursing through her but she refused to show it to him. She had gotten out of that prison of a room. She would not allow this man to put her back in.

"Get out of my way." She responded, her voice raised and deliberate.

Moloch let out a sickeningly smooth laugh as he shifted his cane into his right hand. "I can see why Henry liked you. You are quite the spitfire. But, I must ask, how did you get out?" The question was innocent enough, but Abbie detected an undercurrent on edge in his voice.

"He's dead," Abbie said with an emotionless laugh. "I killed him." She raised the handgun so that it was pointing at his chest.

An angry glint suddenly shown in Moloch's eyes. "How very...unfortunate." His cane was out in a second, heading for her legs to swipe her to the ground. Abbie did not move in time, and felt the ground rush up to her as she landed on her back. Moloch knelt down so that he was still over her. "Your journey ends here, I'm afraid. Henry would have preferred you stay alive. Suffice it to say that he and I differed on that particular point."

Abbie went still as she stared up at Moloch, his ghoulish countenance glaring down at her as if she were nothing. She noted pure hatred and disdain in his expression. Her eyes flickered cautiously around her as she tried to figure out where the handgun had skidded away to. Unable to locate it, she tried to calm herself even as fear filled her from her head to her feet. Before she could open her mouth to say a word, she felt a strike of pain in her side, made all the worse by her already damaged ribs. A choked whimper escaped her as she gasped for the wind Moloch had knocked out of her. The sound was repeated again as he kicked her again and she rolled into the fetal position.

"I cannot understand why Henry was so fascinated with you, Abbie. I would have killed you immediately for that particularly troublesome transgression." Her name sounded like acid coming from his mouth.

She felt as if the world was spinning around her as Moloch landed another kick and two strikes with his cane. She could not stop the cries that escaped her, and her vision blurred slightly with tears. Her body felt as if it had been set on fire from the inside.

He moved so that he was kneeling over her and her eyes widened as his hands suddenly closed around her neck, squeezing as Abbie gasped for air. She tried to pry his hands away but her sides hurt too much. Black spots began to fill her vision and she was suddenly struck with the horrible notion that she would probably die on the floor of an abandoned saw mill. It made her want to scream.

Suddenly, a loud crack echoed through the room and Moloch's hands loosened considerably around her neck at the same time that she felt something splatter onto her face. She took hard, deep breaths as she edged back slightly from Moloch's prone form. His wide, unseeing eyes were frozen in anger and a bullet hole adorned his head as blood poured out underneath.

She spun around slightly to see who it was that saved her and before she could even think to speak, a loud heavy sob escaped her body, for standing there with smoke still escaping from the lost handgun was Ichabod Crane. He had one hand tucked behind his back, his right hand lowering and eventually dropping the gun as he ran over to her.

"Oh, dear God!" He swept her up gently into a hug as he knelt down to her and she could feel his body trembling as he sobbed.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry-"

He cut off her rambling apologies by kissing her forehead hard. "Do not even think of it, my Grace." He scooped her up, realizing as she let out a pained gasp that she was severely hurt. "You're safe now, I swear it."

She nodded absently as tears continued to fall from her face. She could not recall a time she felt so safe or so happy to be alive. She also could not recall a time that she felt so ashamed of herself as the gravity of what she'd done began to weigh on her. All of this was her fault. She had not even told Crane her plan and she could have died without him ever knowing.

She turned her face into his chest, sobbing hard as she felt a weight like cement settle in her stomach. He would leave her when all this was over. She just knew it.


	19. Secret Door

_**She swam out of tonight's phantasm** _  
_**Grabbed my hand and made it very clear** _  
_**There's absolutely nothing for us here** _  
_**It's a magnolia celebration-Secret Door (AM)**_

* * *

 

Sophie was more than a little disappointed that both Parrish and Moloch had been killed during the raid of Summerfield. She had been hoping to arrest them and put them away for life, but perhaps it was all for the best. With Parrish and Moloch eliminated permanently, all they had left was Abraham, and with no one to protect him, he would certainly be away for life for Charlotte Wilcox's murder.

She sighed as she closed the file filled with paperwork she was working on and passed the remaining papers to Captain Irving. Her foot tapped impatiently against the linoleum floor and she pulled her jacket tighter around her as the cold sanitized air blew straight down on her from the vents.

They had been at Sleepy Hollow General Hospital for nearly six hours while Abbie was in surgery. Moloch and Parrish had done some serious damage while she was in captivity. _What an idiot_ , Sophie thought with a fond smile. She respected Abbie for trying to take matters into her own hands to end the problem with Parrish, but she'd risked her own life to do it. _I should never have let her do it_.

But knowing Abbie, she would have found a way to end Parrish with or without help from the FBI. Sophie opened her phone and smiled softly at the picture that was her wallpaper: she, her mother Joan, and her brother Adam were gathered in Time Square making silly faces at the stranger who had taken the picture. She knew that if she'd been in Abbie's position and her family was in danger, she might have done the same thing.

"How you feeling?" Frank asked after a while when he finished his bit of paperwork. He sat back in the chair, his long legs stretching out in front of him as he too began to tap his foot nervously.

Sophie shrugged. "It's weird. On one hand I'm just happy Abbie is alive and Parrish and Moloch aren't. But after chasing after him for so long and having that case be such a big deal in my division...it almost feels like a letdown that I never got to personally arrest him."

Frank nodded in understanding before taking a long drink from his bottle of water. "I know exactly what you mean. You did great work, Agent Foster. You should be proud of that, even if this shitstorm of a case didn't go the way you wanted."

The two were comfortably silent afterward as they waited for the doctor to return to give them news on Abbie's condition. Jenny had fallen asleep with her head on Frank's lap and the rest of her stretched out across the chairs. He'd given her his jacket so she wouldn't get cold. Crane, however, was pacing incessantly around the waiting room, a troubled expression on his face. He seemed to be muttering to himself and Sophie was able to pick out liar and foolhardy from the litany of words that left his mouth. She stood, stretching for a moment before walking over to where he'd stopped by the vending machines.

"You alright, Mr. Crane?" She angled herself in front of him so that he would not be able to make any escape. Whatever issues he had with Abbie and what she'd done needed to be addressed before the doctor came to give them an update.

"Yes, of course, Agent Foster." His voice was tight and controlled as he answered, his fingers twitching rapidly against his thighs.

She sighed and put a hand on his arm, taking mild amusement in the odd look he gave her, pressing slightly. "If you're upset about what Abbie did...you need to know she did it for you, Crane. She did it for you and Jenny and Frank. Don't hold that against her, alright? She just...wanted all of the problems with Parrish and Katrina and Abraham to go away. You know that right?" Even Sophie was surprised at how urgent her voice sounded.

Crane shook his head slightly. "I do not understand why she would not tell me what she was planning. I would have supported her!" His voice ticked up sharply as he spoke, and Sophie knew then that some part of him resented Abbie for her situation.

"No, Crane," she gave him a sad smile. "You would have tried to stop her. Hell, you would have tried to do it yourself and Parrish would have had you killed just to hurt Abbie and prove a point."

He glared at her, his eyes comically petulant before he looked away, an altogether different expression on his face. "I cannot stop thinking about what could have happened to her. She could have died in the trunk of Katrina's car after the accident and I would never have known what she was trying to do. We could have…" His voice cracked and he took in a shaky breath as he looked back up at Sophie again. "Moloch nearly killed her. He was…"

Sophie felt something in her chest seize slightly as she saw the dejected expression on his face. Her eyes were drawn down to his hands which closed and unfurled rapidly. "Crane, I-"

"He was strangling her." His voice cracked again as he gestured up to his neck, tears falling from his face in rapid succession. "If I had been a minute later she would have been dead. It hurts more than I am capable of articulating that she even had to endure this."

Sophie swept him up into a hug, hoping that she could get him into a more understanding place before they saw Abbie again. She didn't want Crane to be angry at her for making an impossible choice. "Tell her that. She needs to know how much you care about her, Crane. But please don't lash out at her. She's been through enough."

She felt him nod as she pulled away and she gave him an encouraging smile. He returned it just barely and his eyes focused somewhere behind her as a serious expression crossed his face. "The doctor."

They both turned and walked over to an older doctor with slightly graying black hair and tired green eyes. Frank was gently shaking Jenny awake. Crane stood in front of the doctor, wholly alert, with one hand twitching nervously against his chin.

"Are you the family of Grace Abigail Mills?" The man's voice was stern and steady as he glanced over them all.

"Yes." The response was simultaneous, and Jenny smiled slightly at the warm feeling that filled her at the love she felt from Crane, Sophie, and Frank in that moment. She raised her hand. "I'm her sister."

The man nodded in response. "I'm Dr. James Orion. My team and I operated on Grace-"

"Abbie," Jenny corrected absently. "She goes by Abbie."

The doctor raised an eyebrow, an amused look taking hold on his face before he began speaking again. "As I was saying, my team and I operated on Abbie for the past few hours. This was, of course, due to the damage she suffered during her ordeal. There were stress fractures in her arms that predated when she was found, two fractured ribs and one broken both old and new in injury, bruises on her left and right tibia, and a gash across the left side of her face from a sharp object. However, these were all relatively minor compared to what she suffered today. We completed surgery for a ruptured spleen that caused some serious internal bleeding and the broken rib caused a puncture in her left lung."

Jenny closed her eyes tightly as tears formed in her eyes and Frank snaked a hand into hers, squeezing encouragingly. Crane looked positively murderous and Sophie placed a hand on his arm, briefly shaking her head when her eyes met his. "Is she going to be alright?" Jenny asked, her voice slightly shaky.

Dr. Orion offered her an encouraging smile. "The surgery went beautifully. She should be awake soon, and we're going to keep her here for a few days to monitor her spleen and left lung. She will also be incredibly sore and she will need to be on bedrest for a week or two."

There was an audible sigh of relief as they laughed and hugged each other tightly. Even Sophie could not deny the warm happiness that spread through her now that she knew Abbie would be alright. She knew now that going back to the New York City field office might not be as cut-and-dry as she thought.

"Can we see her?" Jenny asked after wiping her eyes, her voice moderately hopeful.

Dr. Orion nodded. "Yes, but I'm afraid only two people can be in at a time. The other two can wait in the hall."

"Thank you." Crane ground out slowly, looking every bit dazed and lost as they began their trek to Abbie's room.

The list of Abbie's injuries was replaying over and over in his mind and he felt ashamed for his anger at Abbie for getting herself kidnapped. But then he considered everything that had happened since they began their courtship. She had put up with so much, done so much to keep him safe. She thought that offering herself to Parrish might finally get him off their backs. Abbie had to have known with absolute certainty that there was a 75% chance Parrish would kill her, and yet she'd gone ahead with her plan anyway. She'd risked her life for his and Jenny's protection. He wanted to scream.

"Sophie and I will go get food while you and Crane go in to see her. We should be back in an hour." Frank gave Crane a reassuring pat on the shoulder and hugged Jenny tightly before Sophie did some of the same and the two of them left.

Jenny looked up at him and noticed the war of emotions brewing behind his eyes. "What is it?"

He shook his head as he tried to speak, feeling his own words stick in his throat. Finally, something came out. "She may not want to see me." _More like you may not want to see her. Go on, you coward._ His thoughts sounded bitter and he took a deep breath. "Take your time, Miss Jenny."

"No, you're coming in with me." She took his arm and pulled him into the room, closing the door behind them.

The room was incredibly cold and all that could be heard was the whirring and beeping of machines. Abbie lay before them, sleeping with her head lolling against the right side of the bed toward the window. Though it was cold and dark outside, they could hear rain starting up and Jenny turned the air up a little higher.

"Crane, can you check the bathroom for a bucket, towels, and shampoo?" Jenny asked as she slowly lowered the bed so as not to disturb Abbie. She noticed that her sister's hair was in two matted braids down her head. She knew she would hate it when she woke up.

Crane came back with shampoo, conditioner, a comb, and the other items Jenny had asked for before rooting around the cabinet for extra blankets for Abbie's bed.

A few minutes later, Jenny was positioned behind the bed, slowly unravelling the braids in Abbie's hair. She moved the bucket so that Abbie's hair fell into it without disturbing her, and Jenny washed her sister's hair for her. She detangled it gently with her fingers and then with the comb Crane gave her, caressing her head as she did so, the same way their mother had when they were much younger. Abbie's eyes flickered open slowly and she let out a shaky breath as her eyes flickered around the right side of the room and then up to Jenny.

"I'm here, Abs. I'm right here. You're okay now." Jenny said as she leaned in to kiss her sister on the forehead. "Your hair was a mess." A laugh escaped her and Abbie smiled tiredly as Jenny wrapped her hair in a towel and wrung it a few times before putting bit of conditioner in it to keep it from drying out.

"Thank you." Abbie croaked, slowly reaching one of her hands over to Jenny's wincing slightly as the pain in her sides made itself apparent again.

"Don't worry, Abs. I've got you always. Just like Mama used to say." She squeezed Abbie's hand encouragingly. "But, Abbie, there's something you need to know."

"Hm?" her voice sounded hoarse and both Crane and Jenny detected a bit of wheezing in her voice.

"If you ever pull some shit like that again, you'll be seeing Mama sooner than you think." Jenny gently bumped a fist against Abbie's shoulder, letting out a relieved but tearful laugh.

Abbie smiled and closed her eyes tightly as she tried to laugh, only to have it result in pain that brought tears to her eyes. "I won't, I promise. I'm sorry." Abbie responded seriously as she began to cry softly.

"It's okay, Abs. You're safe now. Don't worry about it." Jenny gave her sister another kiss on the forehead as Crane snaked his own hand into Abbie's free one. Jenny did not miss the way Abbie's tears increased tenfold when she locked eyes with Crane. "I'll give you guys some time to talk."

The room seemed to echo with the sound of the door closing behind Jenny and Crane returned to looking over Abbie, his face appearing beyond distraught and pained. Her tearful eyes met his and her face screwed up as she brought her left hand over her mouth to muffle the sounds of her crying. She closed her eyes as he leaned forward so that his forehead was against hers.

"I'm so sorry, Crane." Her voice was horribly hoarse. "Please, don't leave me."

He felt tears of his own sliding down his face and he leaned forward to kiss every part of hers that he could. "I won't, Treasure. As long as you will have me, I will be here."

 


	20. Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas, everyone. Hope you enjoy this chapter. I've been working on it nearly a month now and I wanted to wait until Christmas Eve to release it.

Abbie was discharged from the hospital three days before Christmas.

  
Jenny, Frank, and Sophie decorated Abbie’s home to celebrate; every room in the house smelled like cinnamon and pine. They’d been able to find a sizeable Christmas tree and decorated it in red and gold, continuing this theme throughout the house. Frank and Crane had taken it upon themselves to put up lights outside the home and Jenny even found a reindeer with lights to put on the front lawn.

  
“You did not need to do all this, guys. It looks like Christmas threw up in here!” Abbie said as she sat on the sofa with pillows propped up behind her. Crane had thrown a blanket across her legs to keep her warm.

  
“Maybe, but I know how much you love Christmas so I convinced these guys to go along with the crazy.” Jenny replied with a laugh as she handed her hot chocolate with fluffy marshmallows in it.

  
“I’m not set to head back to New York City until Christmas Eve anyway. I thought it would be nice to celebrate with you guys before I left.” Sophie was pouring herself another glass of some moderately expensive wine Crane had at his house.

  
“Yeah, well, thanks for...everything, Sophie. The FBI is lucky to have you.” Abbie replied with a grateful smile.

  
“Indeed. Plus, whenever you guys come to Manhattan, there’s always a place for you. Please, don’t be strangers.” Sophie gave them all a gleeful and pouting smile before taking a long sip of her wine again.

  
Abbie suddenly felt extremely tired and she yawned heavily, groaning at the pain in her sides. She fell back against the pillows with a sleepy sigh. She closed her eyes in deep exhaustion.

  
“As fun as this has been, I think we should let Abbie rest. We’ll be back on Christmas Day. Take care of her, Crane.” It was Frank who courageously ended the evening on Abbie’s behalf. Soon, it was only she and Crane in the comfortably warm and silent townhouse.

  
Crane came from the kitchen with her pain medicine and a glass of milk. He peered down at her curiously. “Why don’t we get you to the shower after you take these?”

  
Abbie nodded in response before taking the pills and moving the blanket from her legs. She had no time to even tell her body to attempt standing before she found herself in Crane’s arms being carried upstairs to the bathroom in her bedroom. He sat in the bathroom with her while she showered, determined to make sure she didn’t fall while she was in there. As irritating as Abbie found it, she was extremely grateful he was still there at all.

  
She thought this as he positioned the body pillow Jenny had given him so that she was lying with her back against it. She was facing Crane, and after he showered, they were laying across from one another, hands intertwined.

  
His eyes bore into hers, searching to make sure that she was alright. He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it softly. “What are you going to do with your place?” She asked, repressing a shiver that jolted through her arm.

  
“I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean, Abbie.” he murmured in response.

  
Abbie let out a deep sigh. “You’ve been over here more than your own house. You’ve been taking care of me. I would like to think that us living together is forgone conclusion at this point. So, what are you going to do with your place?” She put as much confidence as she could muster into her voice.

  
Crane’s eyebrows furrowed as he absently kissed her fingers. “If you are asking me to move in with you--”

  
“That is what I’m asking you, Crane.” There was a slight sense of urgency in her voice and she realized rather suddenly that there was a possibility that he would say no, that he would decide that being with her just wasn’t worth the trouble anymore. She began to pull her hands away, feeling like something inside her was sinking, only to have Crane tighten his grip on them.

  
“Then, my answer is yes,” he responded almost immediately. Abbie felt something inside her soar as she leaned forward and placed an unimaginably passionate kiss to his lips. He smiled at her when she pulled away. “I will sell the house and sell Katrina’s jewelry that was in storage. We could leave Sleepy Hollow behind, begin anew in Washington DC of New York City. Perhaps Boston or Phili--”

  
“We don’t need to leave Sleepy Hollow, Crane.” Abbie had somehow inched closer to him. He turned over on his back and gently pulled her so that she was laying on top of him and he pulled the body pillow up next to him.

  
“Do you not wish to begin our lives together in a place devoid of reminders of your ordeal? I worry constantly about you, my Grace.” He asked as he traced lines up and down her back.

  
He felt her sigh against him, shivering slightly. “You shouldn’t.”

  
“I do.” His voice hardened as he said this and Abbie could have sworn he was holding her tighter, afraid that she might somehow disappear. Abbie peered up at him, her eyes searching his own and finding a fear and sadness within them that she had not ever seen before. “You were held captive almost two weeks and you were very nearly killed. Had I been only a minute later…” He trailed off as his voice cracked and Abbie saw tears form in his eyes.

  
She felt a wave of shame wash over her and she immediately attempted to sit up and pull away. Crane shifted them so that he was sitting up against the headboard and pulled her so that she was sitting up with her back to his chest. She was encased in his arms, feeling like she was falling apart. “I’m sorry for being so reckless. I just wanted to protect you.” Her body shook softly with sobs and she felt him bend to kiss the back of her neck comfortingly.

  
“I don’t blame you, treasure. I will never blame you. I felt angry that you didn’t trust me enough to tell me what you were planning, but after I saw what you went through to protect yourself and Miss Jenny...I could not be upset with you. My greatest sadness is that you suffered at all, that that monster dared to draw blood from you and hurt you as he did. Most of all...I feel great shame that I did not attempt to secure your safety myself. I would endure Parrish and Moloch a thousand times if it meant you saw no harm.” Crane’s voice was filled with determined conviction and Abbie felt her love for Crane grow exponentially.

  
They were silent for a long time as they felt and absorbed the weight of what they both were feeling in that moment, crying softly and quietly as they attempted to release what weight they could from the Parrish ordeal.

  
“I want to leave Sleepy Hollow,” she said firmly. “But only temporarily. We need to get away, to live without this shit over our heads. I don’t care where we go, Crane, I just know that I want you to be there too.”

  
“I will do everything I can to make sure you get your wish.”

  
She nodded and passed him a soft kiss. “You know,” she said after a while as she thought over the previous few months. “I was thinking that we should invite Charlotte’s husband and their kids over for Christmas. It’ll be their first one without her...they shouldn’t be alone for it.”

  
Crane moved them so that they were now facing each other, his hands still holding hers firmly. “That sounds wonderful. Perhaps we could get gifts for the children.”

  
“I’ll call Evan tomorrow.”

  
They fell asleep sometime later as Abbie felt her pain meds hit her like a truck.

* * *

  
On Christmas Day, Abbie’s house was the busiest it had ever been since her housewarming party. Sophie’s flight had been cancelled due to a blizzard making its way through New York City. She was staying at a hotel not far from the station, but Abbie told her that she could stay with her if she wanted to. Sophie promptly declined, citing Abbie’s need for recovery. Frank’s plans to see his daughter fell through upon learning that her mother was taking her to France for the rest of the year. Jenny, who had postponed a dig in Guatemala until after New Year’s, invited Frank over to join in the Christmas festivities. Evan Wilcox had accepted their invitation for Christmas Day celebrations and brought along 8 year old Isabella who was the spitting image of her mother, 4 year old Isaac, and 2 year old Iris. Crane and Abbie had gone shopping for gifts the day before and Crane took it upon himself to do the most involved of the Christmas dinner cooking.

  
“Well, what should we watch? Have you guys ever seen _Frosty the Snowman_?” Sophie asked as she finished laying out blankets in front of the tv. The fire was going and Crane was putting the finishing touches on dinner.

  
Isabella, who was a relatively quiet child, shrugged as Isaac’s eyes lit up and a large smile overtook his face. “No, what’s that?” He appeared to be hanging on to Sophie’s every word. Iris appeared to be more interested in playing with one of the ornaments from the tree.

  
Sophie reached forward and tugged at his still chubby cheeks. “Only the best movie _ever_! But, you have to eat dinner first before you can watch it.” Her tone was playfully warning and she quickly glanced over at Evan who was watching her with the kids wistfully. She could see sadness in his eyes and knew he must have been thinking about Charlotte.

  
“Hey,” Abbie said, touching Evan on the arm softly as Jenny brought out the first round of dishes to put on the dining room table. “Can we talk for a second?”

  
Evan looked at her as if he were seeing her for the first time. His dark brown eyes seemed dazed and he absently ran a hand through his dark hair before nodding in response. Abbie led him out onto the deck in her barely used backyard. The only light came from the lights decorating the deck railing and the roof of the house.

  
“How are you feeling?” Abbie asked, wrapping her jacket tighter around her. Evan leaned against the railing and let out a deep sigh he seemed to have been holding in for quite some time.

  
“It feels like...like _she_ should be here. She should be having dinner and opening presents and...I feel guilty for even being _alive_! How fucked up is that?” Evan’s voice cracked as he buried his face in his hands and let out a sob.

  
Abbie felt tears spring to her eyes as she felt consumed with a guilt she thought she’d buried. “I’m so sorry, Evan. I should’ve done more to save her. It’s my fault--”

  
“I don’t blame you, Abbie. I don’t. You aren’t the one who _stabbed_ her. You aren’t the one who took the mother of my children away from me.” Evan looked up at her and Abbie could see he truly meant what he was saying.

  
Abbie sighed and wiped the tears from her eyes. “Look, Evan, I have this guilt inside me for what happened to Charlotte. Every single day I think...I should have done more. I should have gotten there in time. Something. That won’t ever change for me. I will never be able to get her last moments out of my mind. I have to live with that for the rest of my life.”

  
“Abbie--”

  
“I’m not done.” Evan nodded as Abbie held up a finger. “I know what it’s like to lose someone you love so much that you could never imagine being with anyone else. I know what it's like to lose them right in front of you. I won’t lie and say that the pain in your chest that makes you double over three times a day will go away. You’ll feel it every time you look at one of your kids, every birthday, every holiday, every time you even think of their name. But you get used to it. You learn to live with it.”

  
Evan let out an emotionless laugh and took in a ragged breath that sounded like it hurt his very body to take in. “What if I don’t want to? What if I don’t want to _live_ with this pain anymore? It feels like I’m only breathing with one lung or operating with only half of my brain. Half of me is gone, Abbie! I don’t know if I can live with this.”

  
Abbie took a deep breath and gave Evan a hard look. “I can think of three beautiful reasons for you to keep going.”

  
The cold air was quiet between them and they turned to look out at the yard that was slowly beginning to fill with snow. After a while, Abbie patted his shoulder softly before returning to the happy chaos inside. Iris was screeching happily as she chased Isaac around the living room. Isabella was standing next to Sophie looking equal parts reproachful and happy. Sophie looked down at her, the corners of her mouth turning upward as she put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her into her side.

  
“Dinner’s ready!” Jenny hollered from the dining room. Isaac and Iris froze before racing toward Jenny. Sophie scooped up Isabella, groaning exaggeratedly under her heavier weight.

  
Crane was bringing the last dish from the kitchen while Jenny and Frank were finishing setting the table. Evan had come in from outside looking a bit more composed. Finally, they all took their seats, prepared to devour everything Crane cooked. Crane and Abbie sat at the heads of the table. To Abbie’s right was Jenny and Frank sat on Abbie’s left. Next to Jenny was Sophie and Isabella. Evan, Isaac, and Iris sat next to Frank.

  
“I really want to thank you all for being here. This Christmas means a lot to me, mostly because I didn’t think I would get to it. So, I guess, eat up.” Abbie stated with a shrug before taking a long sip of wine.

  
Jenny scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Abs, you suck at toasts.”

  
“We can’t all be word aficionados, Jen. That’s more Crane’s thing anyway.” Abbie winked at Crane who gave her a shy smile from the other side of the table.

  
Sophie laughed and took a sip of wine herself as she watched Isaac attempt to negotiate the necessity of eating vegetables with his father.

  
“Veggies are nasty, Daddy! Mommy didn’t make me eat them.” Isaac’s tone was matter-of-fact and Sophie’s eyes flicked over to Evan as she watched a brief look of anguish cross his face.

  
“Tell you what, Isaac: finish your veggies and we can watch _Frosty the Snowman_ while we open presents. Doesn’t that sound awesome?” Sophie asked as she leaned forward conspiratorially.

  
Isaac pretended to consider her proposal before nodding rapidly. “Okay!” Evan gave her a relieved look which later turned to surprise as Isaac began shovelling green beans into his mouth.

  
The rest of the adults laughed and the conversations around the table filled the room with a happy chattering. Crane continued to pass Abbie adoring looks from across the table. She felt her cheeks heat up and eventually everyone finished with dinner, giving Abbie the perfect opportunity to get a moment alone with Crane. She gave him a moderately devious smile as they stood and began gathering the dishes.

  
“Is it time for presents yet?” Isaac asked as he bounded down from his chair and over to Sophie.

  
She bent down so that she was level with him and gave him a stern look. “That depends, little man. Did you finish all your veggies?”

  
Isaac nodded vigorously. “I did! You can ask my daddy!” He turned around, giving his father an imploring glance.

  
Sophie looked up at Evan who offered her a small smile. “Did he eat all of his veggies, Evan?”

  
“He did.”

  
She smiled at Isaac who looked like he was ready to burst with excitement. “Then, yes. It’s time for presents, little man.” She ruffled his hair before laughing as he took off into the living room, Iris fast on his heels. Isabella stared after them with a shy smile before leaving to join them.

  
“Frank and I have the dishes.” Jenny announced as she came to take the ones in Abbie’s hands away from her. “Go on, open presents.”

  
“We’ll let the kids go first. Just load the dishwasher and come open yours.” Abbie responded as she hugged Jenny from the side.

  
She felt Crane next to her and turned to look up at him as he smiled down at her, pulling her close to him. “Are you going to at least try to keep your hands off me?”

  
He made a show of pretending to think about her question before steering her toward the coat rack. “Probably not. But there is something I need to tell you.”

  
They walked outside onto the front porch and took a seat on the steps. They were both incredibly bundled already but that didn’t stop Crane from pulling her into his side so that she could rest her head on his shoulders.

  
“What did you want to talk about?”

  
The air was cold but, thankfully, without wind which made it relatively tolerable. She sighed, watching as her breath came out in a puff before her.

  
“My parents coming to visit Sleepy Hollow in two days. I finally told them everything that happened with Katrina and I. Our families being as close as they are, they decided to come to check on me.”

  
“Is that it?”

  
He sighed and looked down at her. “Katrina’s memorial service is December 29th. Her parents will be coming to town as well.”

  
Abbie sat up just then, feeling the weight of what he said settle over her. “Oh, fuck.” Her hand went up absently to the still-healing scar on her face. “They’re gonna think I’m a homewrecking trash bag! Wait, have you told them about me?”

  
Crane turned so that he was facing her. “It was never a secret between either of our families that Katrina and I were headed for divorce. Her parents preferred that she marry Abraham instead of me, but they respected me all the same. My parents desired only my happiness. I told them about you just before you were….before everything happened. They are ecstatic that I have found someone with whom I have a loving relationship.”

  
Abbie found herself gripping her hands tightly, both in an effort to avoid the cold and to clamp down on her nerves. “They’re gonna hate me.”

  
“No, they won’t, treasure. They know about everything that has happened. _Everything_. I think, more than anything, they want only to meet you.” Crane bent down and kissed the edge of the scar that ran from next to her left eye down to her chin. It was healing now and would soon be a thin pink line. Every moment he laid eyes on it reminded him of what Abbie had done, what she had _risked_ for herself and for him.

  
They were quiet for a while as the wind picked up slightly, carrying a few flecks of snow with it. Finally, Abbie sighed and leaned against Crane’s shoulders again. “What are their names?”

  
“Shall I tell you the entire thing?” He felt Abbie nod against his shoulder and he continued on. “Very well. My mother is Cecilia Marie Alexander-Crane. My father is Edgar Alton Crane.”

  
“The entire thing? They have perfectly fine names, Crane.” Abbie commented.

  
“Yes, perhaps. I got my name from my grandfather Richard Solomon Ichabod Thomas Crane and my mother’s surname. His parents thought quite highly of themselves and their children. My great aunt was Ophelia Isabella Victoria Crane. They’d only just come into a great deal of money from my great-grandfather’s law firm at the time that my great aunt was born. My grandfather told me they believed that giving their children great names would give them a great life.” Crane recalled with a fond smile.

  
Abbie was glad that she was learning something new about Crane that didn’t revolve around his psychotic ex-best friend and his ex-wife. For once, their relationship felt normal. “Long as they may be, those names are all quite beautiful.”

  
The door creaked open behind them. “Are you dorks gonna come open presents with us or not?” Jenny stuck her head outside and Abbie almost laughed at the childishly impatient look on her face.

  
She and Crane stood, linking hands. “Yeah, whatever, we’re coming.”

* * *

Everyone slept over at Abbie’s house with the exception of Frank and Jenny, who’d taken their leave (and their presents) shortly after Abbie and Crane got back inside. At last check, Sophie and Evan were in the living room watching _Frosty the Snowman_ with the kids who’d now been bathed and were in their pajamas. Crane and Abbie decided to call it a night and head upstairs.

  
“So, that was nice.” Abbie said after they were finally in bed after showering. Even though she knew Crane was dying to be all over her, he respectfully kept his distance, preferring to wait until she was back in top shape before they did anything else.

  
They were facing each other in their bed, hands tightly entwined. Both of them were happily tired and for the first time in as long as Abbie could recall, she felt full to the brim with love and contentment. “I am glad you enjoyed Christmas this year, treasure. One of your gifts is something that may come much later, but I would consider it the perfect gift to me if we only talked about it.” His eyes were sharp in the dark room as he waited for her response.

  
She nodded. “Yeah, sure. What is it?”

  
“Would you marry me?” The question hung between them and Abbie sat up rather suddenly.

  
“I’m sorry, what?”

  
He sat up with her and held her hands firmly. “Not right now. I am not asking you right now.”

  
Now, she felt confused. “Crane, what the hell are you trying to say? I’m tired and I don’t feel nearly as awake as I think I should be for whatever this is.”

  
He let out a small laugh and looked down as he smiled. “What I’m saying...what I’m asking is if you would one day marry me. I am asking if that is something you would like for you and I to do eventually. It need not be next year or even the year after. We never have to if you don’t want to. But I want you to know that even though our time together has been shorter than what would be termed conventional, I see myself with you in years to come.”

  
She felt relief as she felt the pieces of his question come together like a puzzle. Then, a feeling of clarity came over her. She wasn’t afraid of the idea of being with Crane forever. They fit well together. They balanced one another. She knew that there would exist a partnership between them, one where neither would be a source of the other’s happiness and peace of mind but would instead contribute to it.

  
“Oh,” she breathed out, making her voice sound as if she thought the answer to his question should be quite obvious. “Of course, I’ll marry you, Crane.”

  
She leaned forward, kissing him softly before rolling over to go to sleep, leaving Ichabod Crane quite certain that he’d had the best Christmas in all of his life.


	21. Pretty Visitors

**_Split sleep reeps through rewards and ill fitting thoughts. A twilight force, she doesn't wanna walk.  
Your legs start running and your head gets caught. _ **

**_Pretty Visitors (AM)_ **

* * *

The two days before Crane’s parents were due to arrive were some of the most anxious days Abbie had ever experienced. With her strength returning, she had little more than soreness and the occasional flare of pain that her pain meds fixed before bed. Now, she had time for the weight of her experience to settle on her and she could not deny that she was absolutely terrified.

The day after Christmas saw Abbie working tirelessly to make sure every inch of the house was clean. Crane did whatever she asked without question, guessing that whatever Abbie was feeling was not something that could be solved with his words. He found himself wondering if he should have told his parents to wait until Abbie had had time to recover mentally from her experience.

“What else do you need from me?” he asked, hoping that she would say something that had nothing to do with cleaning. He could feel her closing herself off slightly and he didn’t want her to slip away from him.

Abbie had just finished placing her best china out on the dining room table in case Crane’s parents came over, which she thought they probably would. Though she’d heard Crane asking her something, her mind was far away.

The relationship she had with Ichabod Crane was one in which she felt encouraged to look forward rather than backward. Forward meant a future that was entirely their own. Backward meant a past filled with people like Abraham and Katrina and Parrish and Moloch. She had forced herself into not acknowledging what both her and Crane’s past meant for their relationship.

“I need to think.” She replied absently as she dusted her hands against her pants and walked to the living room.

Crane nodded and followed her, sitting in the armchair while she sat on the sofa. If she needed to talk, he wanted to be right there.

“How much do they know about me, Crane?” she asked after a while.

He eyed her carefully. “They know you used to work for the FBI. I told them you desired a less stressful environment and wanted to move back to Sleepy Hollow.”

She sighed and turned fully to face him. “Do they know I’m Black?”

It was a question that never came up between them. Abbie liked to think that Crane saw her race, not as something to be tried or tested but as a vital part of her identity. To her, it was alright that they had yet to discuss it. But, now that his relatively well-off British parents would be coming to see them, she needed to know that who she was would not cause any issues.

He stood and joined her on the sofa, snaking one of his hands into hers. “It is of no import to them, my Grace. They asked for a picture of you and I sent one. Neither can get over how beautiful you are.”

She nodded in response, only a moderate feeling of relief overcoming her. “Okay,” she breathed out. “I guess I have to find something to do on the 29th.”

“Why ever would you need to do that?”

She gave him an incredulous look. “I don’t know, Crane, maybe because your dead ex-wife’s parents whom you've known all your life are going to be there judging me as some homewrecking harlot?” Abbie let out a humorless laugh. “I don’t think so.”

“Abbie, no. Katrina’s parents will not judge you. They knew...long before Katrina died, they knew that she and I were drifting. All they wanted was for both of us to be happy, even if it wasn’t with each other. Barrett and Theresa are...well, I could not possibly have asked for better in-laws. Trust me, my Grace, everything will be fine.” Ichabod implored, taking Abbie’s hand and bringing it to his lips to kiss softly.

“Yeah, maybe.” Crane’s words did nothing to ease the anxiety that made her stomach feel as if it was turning itself inside out.

* * *

  
Edgar and Cecilia Crane arrived the night before Katrina’s memorial service. Abbie wasn’t home when they showed up. She’d been running around the supermarket with Jenny like a chicken with its head cut off. By the time Jenny talked her down from a possible panic attack, they were pulling into Abbie’s driveway.

“Take a deep breath, Abs. Everything will be fine,” Jenny rubbed her sister’s back the way she used to when they were little. “If it gets bad, just text me a bat emoji and I’ll come running.”

Abbie looked over at her, a watery smile on her face. “What?” She broke out into a smile as she realized Jenny was trying to cheer her up. “You’re ridiculous, Jen.”

“Yeah, maybe. Now, go meet your future in-laws and cook the best damn dinner you possibly can. I believe in you, sis.” Jenny gave her sister a hug and shooed her from the car with her grocery bags.

She could hear pleasant music coming from inside the living room as she hung up her coat by the doorway. Following the sounds, she was greeted with the sight of an older woman, presumably Ichabod’s mother, singing some jazz song while an older man, probably Ichabod’s father if the resemblance could be trusted, sung background. Abbie felt confusion come upon her face as she saw Ichabod smiling as if he were the happiest person on the planet.

Ichabod took notice of her standing in the entryway and stood to greet her. “Abbie, my love, these are my parents: Edgar and Cecilia.” He gave her a brief kiss and led her over to his parents who were on the sofa, warm expressions on their faces. They’d stopped singing when Abbie came in, but their good mood appeared to still be in place.

“It’s lovely to finally meet you, Mr. & Mrs. Crane. You’ve raised quite a man here.” Abbie smiled as she looked up at Ichabod.

Cecilia smiled even wider if that were even possible and pulled Abbie in for a tight hug. “Oh, you are absolutely _gorgeous_ , dear! Those pictures do you no justice. I hope you plan to keep this one, Ichabod.”

Abbie felt some of her nervousness ease as she hugged Cecilia back before stepping away. She tried to take in the woman as best she could. Cecilia was slightly darker than Ichabod, with huge brown eyes and bone straight hair that was half up and half down. She was much shorter than Ichabod and Edgar, but taller than Abbie. The creme sweater she wore, coupled with dark jeans and the most gorgeous pair of riding boots Abbie ever laid eyes on did much to take away from the snobby British woman Abbie had previously been picturing.

“Yes, she is quite lovely, son. Well done!” Edgar hugged his son tightly and, with the two standing so close together, it was easy to see where Ichabod got his height from. While he was 6’3, his father seemed closer to 6’5 and had a body type nearly identical to Ichabod’s. He had graying brown hair that was cut short and the same electric blue eyes Ichabod did. With the exception of a few things, Ichabod was practically Edgar’s clone.

“I wish I could’ve been here when you guys arrived but I was out at the store for dinner so I hope you’re hungry! It’s roast, potatoes, and carrots.” Abbie picked up the grocery bags a bit before readying to go to the kitchen.

“Don’t worry, Treasure, I’ll get started on everything. Father, if you would, I might require your assistance with the roast.” Ichabod made a none-too-subtle gesture to his father and Abbie’s eyes went comically wide as he left her alone in the room with his mother.

Without the music, the room seemed a bit emptier. Abbie felt like her heart had jumped into her ears. She was never one to care much for what others thought of her but, for some reason, she felt like she needed to impress Ichabod's parents. She took a deep breath and turned to sit on the sofa across from Cecilia.

“You have a lovely voice, Mrs. Crane.” She stated honestly. “I don’t know if Ichabod got that from you, though.” Abbie allowed a small laugh as Cecilia responded with a smile.

“Yes, I suppose his singing voice is about as alluring as two stray cats fighting in a London back alley.” Her voice was smooth and welcoming, but Abbie still could not shake off the nervousness she felt coursing through her.

“Abbie, dear,” Cecilia started, getting up to move so that she and Abbie now shared the sofa. “I want you to know that you don’t need to be afraid of me.”

Abbie shook her head incredulously. “I’m not afraid, Mrs. Crane, I--”

“Cecilia, please. And you are,” Mrs. Crane smiled to herself. “I know what you’re feeling like I know my own name, dear. Edgar and I...well, suffice it to say that our story is not much different from yours.”

The blood seemed to thump in Abbie’s ears one more time before quieting. Though she still felt her left hand shake slightly, she felt more curious than anything. “I don’t understand.” Her voice sounded odd even to her own ears. “What do you mean?”

Cecilia sat back on the sofa, a wistful look crossing her face. “Edgar was married when we met. His wife, Hadley, was diagnosed with terminal pancreatic cancer. I volunteered at St. Anne’s Hospital where she was being treated. Edgar practically _lived_ there.”

Intrigued, Abbie felt relaxed enough to sit back. “What kind of work did you do at the hospital?”

“I went to the rooms and sang to the patients. I made a point to visit Hadley as often as I could. She always told me how much she adored my singing.” Cecilia felt tears coming and she blinked upwards to keep them at bay. “We were _friends_ , Abbie. I knew her for only four months but it felt like a _lifetime_. She was such a beautiful woman with the most resilient spirit.”

Abbie felt melancholy pass through her as she realized where Cecilia’s story was headed. “What happened?”

“She passed away on Valentine’s Day, if you can believe it. But it was far from sudden. The entire week before she began to decline, started making last requests. When the doctors informed her that she had a day or two, she asked for me and Edgar to be at her side. They hadn’t had any children. Hadley’s parents were already gone. It was...very small. We told her how much we loved her and I promised to look after Edgar as best I could. She didn’t want him to be alone, you see.” Cecilia wiped away the stray tears that made their way down her cheeks.

Abbie rushed forward, hugging her tightly. “I’m so sorry.”

She felt the woman shrug slightly and pulled back. “I took it upon myself to move in with Edgar, help him sort through all of Hadley’s things, make sure he was okay. It was not until two years later that we began to date. Three years later, we eloped.”

“But what about Mr. Crane’s family? Did they know?”

Cecilia gave her a rueful grin. “Oh, they knew. They were hardly happy about it. They had it in their minds that I stole Edgar from Hadley, took advantage of him at a most vulnerable time. They went to their graves with that! Oh, Abbie, it was positively miserable. They said over and over that I was the reason Hadley died!”

Abbie’s eyebrows shot up into her hairline. “What? But that’s _insane_! The woman had terminal cancer, for Christ’s sake.”

“Indeed. It was a long, sad tale, I know, but I wanted to tell it to you because I want you to know that it is very clear to me how happy you make my Ichabod. He is happier with you than he was with Katrina and that is what truly matters to me. You ought not attempt to prove yourself worthy of him because I already _see_ it.”

This time, it was Abbie who felt the tears coming. She hugged Cecilia again. “That means a lot to me, Cecilia. Honestly.”

By the time Ichabod and Edgar finished up with dinner, Abbie and Cecilia were having a lively discussion about the greatest jazz musicians of all time. Ichabod stood in the doorway, a warm feeling encasing his chest as he observed Abbie, relaxed and smiling, talking to his mother.

After dinner, Edgar and Cecilia retired for the evening to the guest room on the first floor. Abbie and Ichabod finished up in the kitchen and went upstairs to their room.

“You and Mother appear to be getting on famously.” Crane commented as he pulled Abbie close to him.

“She’s a lovely woman. You were right, Crane, I had no reason to be nervous.” Abbie traced circles on the sheets with her finger, her voice strangely emotionless.

“You are still worried about tomorrow.”

Abbie nodded wordlessly and Crane moved them so that her head rested on his chest. He kissed her forehead and held her as tight as possible. “Rest, my love. If your worry will not leave you, at least put it aside for a few hours.”

She nodded again and fifteen minutes later was fast asleep. Ichabod, however, was still awake, unable to get any sleep, for he too was nervous about Katrina's memorial service.


	22. Only You Know

_**Only you know what you have been through,** _  
_**But there's better things you're gonna get into,** _  
_**And I wanna be there too.** _

**Only You Know (AM)**

* * *

 

The memorial service began promptly at 11am in the Tarrytown Lutheran Church.

Abbie was dressed in black, specifically a thick black sweater over a black dress she’d dug up from her closet. Beneath that she wore tights and calf length boots. She’d decided to sit at the back, as far as possible from Katrina’s parents.

Crane had objected, but stayed with her while Edgar and Cecilia went to the front to greet Barrett and Theresa. Abbie had expected Crane to tell her (again) that she had nothing to worry about, that Katrina’s parents would love to meet her. But he did no such thing. He linked his hand into hers and held on tightly.

The bishop, a kindly old man, began the service with a prayer and other things Abbie didn’t pay much attention to. What was left of Katrina Van Tassel resided inside of an urn at the front of the sanctuary. Someone, probably her parents, had blown up a picture of her and stationed it next to the urn. Abbie felt the extreme urge to look away.

There were not very many people who knew Katrina. Outside of some of her coworkers from the jewelry shop, her parents, Ichabod, his parents, and Abbie, there were hardly any others. Frank and Sophie were there, primarily out of obligation for their respective law enforcement agencies.

“If anyone would like, I shall allot this time for those who knew Katrina to come forward and share their fondest memories.” The bishop announced before taking a seat.

Ichabod immediately stood and Abbie’s eyes widened slightly before she moved to allow him past her. She felt the eyes of everyone in the church not only on him but her as well. Barrett and Theresa gave Abbie a curious look and she pointedly looked away toward Ichabod.

“Katrina and I were very close friends growing up. We were eventually married and, though we later drifted from one another, she has always held a special place in my heart. Losing her was a lot like losing an arm or a leg. It was there all your life and one day it wasn’t and the absence feels...so _obvious_.” Crane looked over at Katrina’s urn, his face a mask of confusion. He never understood death. “I shall miss her greatly. She deserved all the happiness in the world even if I could not be an adequate source. I hope that now, wherever she may be, that she is happy and her spirit is at rest.”

Abbie wasn’t sure what she expected Crane to say, but she expected more. She was surprised he had not cried or something close to it. He rejoined her at the back of the church and they were stuck in their own heads as other people gave their thoughts.

Sooner than she expected, the memorial service ended. Abbie was out of the church with Ichabod first to wait for his parents. The weather was quite cold and overcast and she pulled her jacket around her as the wind blew particularly harshly.

“What did you think?” Crane asked, pulling her into him in an effort to warm her.

“It was a memorial service for your dead ex-wife who left you for your best friend and worked for the guy who tortured me for almost two weeks straight. I think it was fine.” Abbie replied sarcastically.

He sighed deeply, his breath fogging in the air before him as he pulled her tighter toward him. He did not much care anymore about the way his and Katrina’s marriage had ended. It was sad but he no longer harboured any anger about the situation. Where Abbie’s time with Parrish and Moloch was concerned, things were different.

Ichabod was well aware of how close he came to losing Abbie. He’d seen her beaten, broken, moments away from being strangled to death. The fear, anxiety, and helplessness of even the smallest possibility of Abbie being in danger would never leave him. He didn’t blame her a bit for what she’d just said.

“Ichabod Crane. It has certainly been a long time.” a voice cut into the wind.

The two of them looked toward the entrance to see Barrett and Theresa van Tassel exiting the church with Edgar and Cecilia not far behind. He felt Abbie tense up beside him and he could have sworn she took a small step back as Katrina’s parents came closer.

“Mr. and Mrs. van Tassel. I certainly wish we were seeing each other under better circumstances.” He stepped forward to hug Theresa and gave a firm handshake to Barrett.

“Yes, of course.” The woman, who must have been Theresa, replied. Much like her daughter, she had hair the shade of a deep crimson though it was tinged with streaks of grey.

“How are you holding up, Ichabod?” Barrett asked.

“Should I not be asking you that question?” Ichabod replied, only half joking. He watched as Barrett and Theresa allowed their gazes to rove over Abbie. He felt a surge of pride as she allowed a small smile to cross her face.

Inside, her nerves were fluttering. But, she told herself, Katrina was dead and gone. While she may have been worried about how her parents might react to seeing her with Crane, she had no regrets about she and Crane’s relationship. Even if she was expecting Katrina’s parents to call her everything aside from her own name, she was a grown woman. What did she have to be afraid of?

“It is lovely to meet you. Katrina was an incredibly brave woman.” Abbie put on her Lieutenant voice, feeling strength grow from it. She extended a hand toward Theresa who, after a short beat of silence shook it quickly before pulling away.

“Indeed. And what of Abraham?” Theresa, Abbie noticed, had watery eyes that appeared to be bloodshot, most assuredly a product of losing her only child. Still, her question about Abraham had caught Abbie off guard.

“Rotting in a jail cell, I hope.” Ichabod was the one who responded this time and there was an emotionless venom lacing his words.

“We are of the same mind, Ichabod. We have always considered you a son, you know. I hope you have surmised that her untimely passing does not change that.” Theresa replied, a sad warmth in her eyes.

“You do appear to be quite happy here.” Barrett observed as his eyes traveled again over to Abbie.

“I am.” Abbie glanced up at Ichabod to see that he was looking down at her with only love in his eyes.

“Quite the darling, this one is.” Cecilia said as smiled warmly at Abbie. Edgar’s face maintained a similar expression.

Theresa looked over the two of them again, her face settling on an expression of content resignation. “I certainly look forward to getting to know her.”

Twenty minutes later, they were out of the cold and back inside. Edgar and Cecilia had elected to explore Sleepy Hollow a bit on their own as they were due to leave the following evening. Ichabod made a fire in the living room while Abbie changed into a big t-shirt and made hot chocolate.

“Is there peppermint in this?” Ichabod asked a few moments later with a foam mustache on his face.

“Yes. It’s my favorite.” Abbie replied before leaning forward and capturing his top lip in hers. When she pulled away the foam was gone.

A nearly feral look came into his eyes. “You are incorrigible.”

Abbie smiled and kissed next to his mouth. “Maybe. I feel so much lighter than I did earlier. Katrina’s parents were nice.” She nestled into him, wrapping her arms around his waist.

“Barrett and Theresa are very kind people. They have been as long as I have known them. I must say that I, too, am glad that the day went rather well.” Ichabod pulled her closer to him as he realized that in two days it would be a new year and he had come quite close to living in a world without Abbie.

She sighed and closed her eyes, trying to remember when last she had felt so content. “So am I.”


End file.
